Metanoia
by wolfstarstreet
Summary: Metanoia- (n.) the journey of changing one's mind, heart, self, or way of life. Seven years of the Marauders/Wolfstar at Hogwarts.
1. I

**Hiiiii! I'm Sarah, and this is the first installment of my newest FanFic, Metanoia. It's Wolfstar, and will be documenting the (mostly canon) lives of the Marauders, from eleven to eighteen/nineteen years old.**

 **I've wanted to write this fOREVER so I hope everyone likes it! Please leave a review if you can, I love suggestions!**

 **Again, thanks for readinggg~**

I.

" _But if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing's changed at all?"_

 _-Dan Smith_

"Shall we go for a walk, Sirius?" Orion Black's impossibly deep tones crawled over Sirius' shoulders and stayed there; not in a warm, comforting fashion, but rather as a chilling reminder that that voice could, and would, always be in control.

"Yes, sir," the wavering voice of the eleven-year-old Heir to the Noble and Moste Ancient House of Black replied. Sirius stood from his place at the dinner table, which tonight, was set for four- Walburga, Sirius' mother, Regulus, his nine-year-old little brother, and two others, who were currently venturing away from the archaic piece of furniture.

 _Shall we go for a walk?_ was not an unfamiliar question to Sirius' ears. Not that it could be considered a question, really- it was more of a command, and Sirius knew that it meant he would be going to the Black Library.

Most libraries smelled of parchment or mahogany, and made people feel warm and comforted. The Black Library was a sharp juxtaposition. Sleek, cold shelves housed thousands of books from every corner of the Dark Arts- _How to Properly Cast an Unforgiveable_ by Hempus le Fay, _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ by Owle Bullock, and _Magick Moste Evile_ by Godelot were of a few. Walking off the Slytherin green carpet- which blanketed almost the entire house- and onto the black tiles of the library, Sirius sucked in a gulp of air and held it in his throat. He followed his father behind the shelves, each book radiating with Dark Magic. It sent a sickening chill down the eleven-year-old's back.

Finally, the two men reached a spindly desk, with two chairs on either side- one large, green, and cushiony, the other static, made of sharp lines and angles. Orion and Sirius took their respective seats.

"How have you been lately?"

Sirius sat up straighter as his father spoke. "Fine, sir," he lied.

"Just fine? Is that ungratefulness I'm hearing?"

"N-no sir." Sirius cursed himself inwardly for his stupid response.

"Good. And don't stutter. It's unbecoming of the Black Heir."

"Yes, sir."

"Anyway," Orion folded his long, pale fingers together and placed them on the desktop. "You'll be starting school soon, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

"And I presume you know what I expect from you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Articulate, Sirius."

"You expect for me to be sorted into Slytherin House. You expect for me to behave in a manner only becoming of the Heir to the Noble and Moste Ancient House of Black. You expect for me to earn top marks in all of my classes. You expect for me to befriend all of those with merit, regardless of age." Sirius struggled not to falter as he recited the list of expectations his father had drilled into his memory since the previous year.

"What else?"

 _What else? There was more?_ Sirius panicked. He'd double and triple checked his list, but he couldn't for the life of him remember what he'd forgotten.

"Family." Sirius jumped at the slightly harsher tone Orion spoke in. "You will stay close to your family- Bella and Narcissa. Upholding the reputation of the House of Black is your first priority. Everything you do shall be in loyalty to them, to us."

"O-of course, sir," Sirius replied. His mind was screaming at him, uncannily sounding like his mother. How could he have forgotten? How could he be so stupid? Why did he have to stutter under those unforgiving, black eyes?

"Now, I trust that you shall exceed all of these expectations?" Orion's voice was suspiciously nonchalant (for him, anyway).

"Yes, sir."

"Good. There are some presents waiting in your room, compensation for your cooperation."

"Thank you, sir." Sirius knew not to be overly-excited at the notion of gifts. He'd made too many mistakes during this meeting to be let off the hook completely.

"You may go," Orion said.

Sirius stood- his insides trembling, his outside feigning confidence. He held his chin high, kept his back straight, and walked with purpose towards the exit of the library.

"Wait, Sirius."

He halted his proud steps, turning to look at his father, who hadn't moved at all.

"I suspect you know where to meet Kreacher, before you proceed to your room?"

Sirius' shoulders sagged undetectably. "Yes, sir."

"Brilliant. Five lashes for forgetting your obligation to your family, five lashes for stuttering in my presence."

"Yes, sir."

"Now you may go."

Wordlessly, Sirius turned on his heel, walking with trepidation in his steps as he headed for the kitchen.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Sirius was dying.

At least, that's what it felt like. A thin, steel rod was alight with a golden glow, mercilessly slapping the pale skin on his back. White hot pain marched from his left ribs, across his slightly protruding spine, to his right ribs. A thousand needles were poking at his newfound gashes, the unbearable pain hugging his body. Sirius couldn't take it. His normally unblemished skin was flushed and torn, his cheeks red, sweat dripping down his body. All coherent thoughts disappeared, and he was left a stuttering, whimpering, begging pile on the emerald tiles of the kitchen floor.

"Ten," Kreacher, the Black family house elf, croaked. He was just over two and a half feet tall, and with his drooping nose, jagged fingernails, and empty, sadistic eyes, Kreacher was quite a frightening sight for anyone who hadn't grown up with him. He snapped his fingers, and the metal rod rained down on Sirius with another sickening _slap._ He screamed in pain, collapsing from his kneeling position and landing stomach-first onto the floor. A trail of blood raced down his skin and pooled at the waistband of his dress pants. Tears followed suit, falling from stormy gray eyes and pooling at the corners of Sirius' mouth.

"Master Black's orders have been fulfilled," Kreacher said, sounding disappointed. "Master Sirius is free to go."

With a loud clap of his wiry hands, the ten gashes on Sirius' back were sewn together. He mewled in agony as the blood stains were lifted from his skin and the scars simmered from a flaming red to barely noticeable white lines. They were queued politely, traveling evenly from his shoulder blades to his lower back.

Nasally laughter cut through the still air, and it disappeared as Kreacher left the room, his interest clearly gone. Sirius tried to stand, but the pain was too fresh. He hissed and fell back to the floor, resigned himself to laying on the cool, sweaty tile.

He didn't know how much time had passed when a small voice said, "Sirius?"

The heir lifted his head, finding his eight-year-old brother standing in the door frame.

"Hi," he choked, not realizing how dry his throat was.

"What'd you do now?" The younger boy stepped closer, and Sirius realized that he was dressed in a pair of Slytherin green pajamas.

"What time is it?" Sirius asked, deflecting his brother's question.

"After nine," he said.

"Merlin, Reg, you need to go upstairs. If they catch you out of bed, you know what'll-"

"No, I know," Regulus interrupted. "It isn't nine thirty yet. I have ten minutes and I wanted to make sure you weren't hurt too bad."

"I'm okay." Sirius got to his feet on a pair of shaky legs, biting his lip hard to keep from crying out.

"What'd you do?" Regulus repeated.

"Same old stuff. I was being stupid and forgetful and all the rest."

"Why can't you try harder? So they won't hurt you like this?"

Sirius felt a stab of annoyance, but knew that his little brother was only trying to help. "I do try, Reg. But they expect more from me than they expect from you."

"Okay."

"Now come on, we need to go to our rooms."

Sirius picked his shirt up off the floor. He didn't bother buttoning it, but rather let the black material sit against his skin, offering a small comfort. He stepped forward tentatively, and after a few more steps, grabbed Regulus' hand and walked with precision out of the room.

The two boys walked in silence up the stairs. Their steps were quiet under the plush carpet, their communication limited to Regulus squeezing Sirius hand harder if they passed a particularly unsettling portrait of an ancestor. It was inevitably nearing nine thirty now, and they both didn't want to deal with their parents' wrath about being about the house after bedtime.

Sirius and Regulus had rooms opposite each other, both doors engraved with a golden, cursive interpretation of their names. As they stood in front of them, Sirius looked down at his little brother- eyes wide and concerned, trying to glimpse the barely detectable white scars on his older brother's back.

"Hey," Sirius' voice was back to normal, and softer than usual. Regulus looked up.

"Yeah?"

"I'm okay, honest. Don't worry about me."

"Okay." But Sirius knew that Regulus was anything but.

"What's bugging you, then?" he asked.

"Shcoo," Regulus mumbled.

"What?"

"S-school," he said, louder this time.

"School? You mean Hogwarts?"

Regulus nodded.

"Oh, Reg, you're buggered about me leaving?"

"I'll be all alone, Sirius. For nine months. What if you make friends, and you like them more than me? What if you don't want to talk to me anymore? What if mum yells at me? What if Kreacher hurts me? No one will be there for me anymore."

"Reg, you're my little brother. Even if I make friends, I'll still talk to you. And mum never yells at you, you're the angel child. And Kreacher won't hurt you unless mum or dad tells him to, so you should be fine. And-and Reg, no matter how far away I am, or how long I don't see you, I'll always be there for you. You're my little brother," Sirius finished. His heart was hurting for his little brother, who was currently staring at the floor with something akin to despair.

The boys didn't talk like this very often- affection was taboo in the Moste Noble and Ancient House of Black- but either way, they communicated with knowing glances and the occasional hand squeeze. They spoke formally when their parents were around, but in the wayward moments when they were alone, they could relax.

"Promise?" Regulus' small voice asked.

"I promise," Sirius replied. He squeezed his little brother's hand one last time before disappearing into his room. It was definitely past their bedtime now, and their parents would be upstairs to check on them soon.

He stepped into his candle lit room, ready to take a shower and head to bed. A dull ache was still living in his bones, and he felt filthy. However, his gray eyes nearly bulged out of his head when he noticed the enormous trunk sitting on his bed. It was sleek and black, with gold latches and detailing. Sirius unhooked both clasps and flung it open.

What seemed like a thousand Galleons greeted his eyes, a sea of gold across the lid of the trunk. On the other side sat stacks of new robes. Sirius ran his fingers over the various materials- some silky, some velvety, others stiff, with an all-too-familiar properness about them. All of a sudden, the pain that ran through Sirius' blood seemed to dissipate, and he jumped onto his mattress. He let his eleven-year-old mind take over, throwing the coins in the air and letting them clink back onto the bed. He smiled happily, examining the money, imagining what he'd buy when he was at school and free from his parents' watchful gazes. He'd have to tell Regulus sometime, and bring him presents over the winter holidays.

Sirius stopped playing in his sea of coins, suddenly overcome with excitement about going to Diagon Alley the next morning. His father had promised to take him, and although he'd been to Knockturn Alley hundreds of times before on Black family business, he'd never been to Diagon. Sirius was overjoyed at the notion of getting his wand, getting his books, and packing his new trunk. Sirius was ready for school. He was ready for freedom. He was ready to take Hogwarts into his hands and flip it upside down.

Maybe he'd actually be able to make his parents proud for once. Maybe his mum wouldn't be so disgusted with him all the time. Maybe he'd stop receiving lashes for his misdemeanors.

Hogwarts meant change, and Sirius felt like he'd been labeled a disappointment since he first learned to talk. So, this was his chance to live up to his title. Things were, for once, working in favor of the Heir to the Noble and Moste Ancient House of Black.


	2. II

**Ta da! Chapter II is finally here! I realize that I haven't told you- this story will be mainly from Sirius' POV. I may do some switching with different characters later on, but it will be mostly Sirius :)**

 **Also, I wanted to know what you all suggest for a more realistic Dumbledore- I just don't like how I've written him. And I know that Bellatrix shouldn't be a Fifth Year while Sirius is a First Year… but I like it that way lol. And Narcissa is canonically two years older than Sirius, so at least that works out.**

 **And finally, I'm sadly not from anywhere near the UK *gasp.* So if any of my words, phrases, or "Americanisms" are showing, please tell me. I need your help haha**

 **Anyway, I had so much fun writing this chapter, so I hope you enjoy! Thanks everyone!**

II.

" _You are only given a little spark of madness. You must not lose it."_

 _-Robin Williams_

Platform 9 ¾ was alight with a blood-warming buzz. Families hustled along, trunks taller than the eleven-year-old witches and wizards flying this way and that. Owls hooting, toads croaking, cats mewling. Parents admonishing their overzealous children, or crying over their farewell. Sirius had never felt like this before; anxiety ran through the marrow of his bones- and while he knew that feeling quite well- something else mingled with it. His mind was glowing with excitement, his blue eyes wide, drinking his surroundings in. There were so many colors here, so much light and so many smiles.

Sirius Black decided that this was what heaven looked like.

"Sirius," the throaty sound of his mother's voice interrupted his overwhelming joy.

"Yes, mother?" Sirius turned around on his heel, careful to keep his back straight and his chin held high.

"I know you'll follow your father and I's wishes, yes?"

"Most definitely, mother."

"Then I give you my best wishes, Sirius. Do your name proud."

"I will, mother." A cold, long-fingered hand squeezed Sirius' shoulder, and he beamed with pride. His mother didn't touch him very often, but when she did, Sirius reveled in it.

"G'bye, Sirius," Regulus' small voice said, and Sirius smiled at him warmly.

"Goodbye, Reg," he winked at his little brother, before turning and walking towards the scarlet train- the Hogwarts Express. Kreacher followed in toe with his trunk, but Sirius didn't care much about him. He was going to Hogwarts! He was going to make his family so proud!

As he walked past compartment after compartment, Sirius realized that he was thinking too much about who to sit with. His feet were tired, so he vowed to sit in the compartment that was coming up next. Absentmindedly, he opened the door, sitting straight-backed and cross-legged onto one of the scarlet cushions. He heard the soft _thunk_ of his trunk being set on the rack above his head, and if it was even possible, his smile grew wider as he heard Kreacher leave. The little mongrel had always hated him, and he returned the favor.

"Hey." Another boy's voice filled the compartment, and Sirius' eyes opened from their blissful haze. He hadn't noticed the other boy.

"Hello." Sirius' voice sounded deeper when he said this, and he realized that it was a force of habit. Strangers at 12 Grimmauld Place meant that Sirius had to lower his voice, sound more traditional, and act more important- to be like his father.

"My name's James, Potter. James Potter."

Alarms started ringing and whistling through Sirius' head. A Potter? No, no, no! This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. The Noble and Moste Ancient House of Black _hated_ the blood-traiting Potters. He'd been on the train all of five minutes, and he was already making fatal mistakes.

"Are you okay?" Potter said again, and Sirius gathered himself quickly, putting on his best "more-important-than-you" face.

"No, I'm most certainly not okay, P-" Sirius realized that he shouldn't be saying such a filthy name, and he promptly closed his mouth. "I can't stay here with you."

"Why not?" James was smiling a large, toothy grin, and Sirius saw that he was missing a molar. What a child.

"You don't even know who I am, do you?" Sirius sneered at the too-happy boy across from him.

James laughed. "No, but if you'd introduce yourself, that'd help."

"I don't need your sarcasm."

"Really? Most people love my sarcasm."

"Well, I don't."

"Why are you so serious, anyway?"

"Wait, so you do know who I am?"

"What? No, no I don't. You're a weird one, you are."

"But you just said-"

"Excuse me," a scrawny boy was standing at the entrance of the compartment. "Could we sit in here? Everywhere else is full."

"Yeah, come in," James said, running a hand through his hair. The scrawny boy let his friend in first- Sirius noted that he was short, fat, and utterly unbearable. Kreacher would have a field day if his family caught wind of the fact that he was fraternizing with such low-life.

The other boy, however, wasn't as despicable. He was short, but not shorter than the fat one. He was very skinny, but his skin was tan and his hair was short and tawny. Sirius decided that this one would be sitting next to him. Filthy Potter could sit with the filthy one.

"Before I forget, I never actually got your name." James had spoken, and he was looking at Sirius with a crooked smile and raised eyebrows.

"You don't deserve to know."

"Do I?" the boy adjacent to James asked. For the first time, Sirius noticed that he had reddish-white lines across his face. He wondered how they'd gotten there.

"Do you what?" James asked, not unkindly.

"Do I deserve to know your name?" He didn't look at James. The boy had such a strong presence, yet he was so small and bony. He was looking straight at Sirius, who was staring at the floor.

Sirius didn't know what to say. He knew he should be just as rude as he was to Potter, but something kept him from acting out. "Sirius."

"What?" James said loudly.

"My name is Sirius," he said, louder this time.

"Wait- Sirius? As in, as in Sirius Black?"

"So you are familiar with me, eh, Potter?" Sirius laughed bitterly, and a strange feeling gnawed at his chest. The fear behind the other boy's eyes when he'd registered who was sitting with him was all too familiar. Sirius felt the same fear when he spoke to his father, but he masked it just as well as Potter had. He knew the Black name was important, even frightening, to adults. He didn't realize that children his own age were afraid of it- of him.

"My father's told me about your sort, yes."

 _His sort?_ "Well, I'm familiar with your sort, too. Very familiar, indeed."

"Y-y-you're a, a, um, a-" the fat boy next to Potter stuttered. Sirius wanted to cringe, but concealed it.

"Don't stutter when you talk to me," Sirius growled, promptly shutting the inferior eleven-year-old up. Sirius realized that he sounded just like his father, and instead of feeling proud, he felt a little sick.

"Oh, who are you, Black?" James mocked Sirius with a false accent. "You're a right git. What's your name, anyway?"

The chubby boy looked up from his hands and to his right, at James. He was sweating from the confrontation with Sirius.

"Peter," he said, seemingly more relaxed when talking to the bespectacled boy next to him. "Pettigrew."

"Well, Peter Pettigrew, I think we're going to be great mates."

"I'm terribly jealous," Sirius snapped. The boy sitting next to him hadn't said anything in a while, and Sirius realized that he was staring at him. "You shouldn't stare," he growled.

Unlike Peter, the scrawny boy didn't flinch from Sirius' outburst. Instead, he smiled. "Who are you, Sirius Black?"

"Who _am_ I?" Sirius turned to look at the stranger. He had wide hazel eyes, and a soft smile. He truly looked clueless.

"Yes, who are you? Why are those two afraid of you?"

"I'm not afraid of him!" James scoffed indignantly, but he was ignored.

"They're afraid because I'm the Heir to the Noble and Moste Ancient House of Black. That's why they're afraid."

"What's that?" the boy asked, tilting his head. Sirius told himself that the boy was an idiot, and resolved that he wouldn't be speaking with him after they left the train.

"It's a family of mental Slytherin-"

Sirius interrupted James. "It's my family. We're the most esteemed pureblood family in the entire wizarding world. We have money, power, and intelligence. My parents have the Ministry wrapped around their fingers, and we can do whatever we please."

"Including kill innocent people and hunt innocent creatures."

"James is only jealous. His family is a filthy, blood-traiting, muggle loving-"

"SHUT IT!"

In the blink of an eye, James was on top of Sirius- casting wayward punches that always missed their target. Sirius was shocked at first, but once he got ahold of the situation, he pulled his wand out of his pocket and shouted, "Petrificus Totalus!"

James went completely still, and Sirius pushed him onto the floor. He stood, brushed himself off and murmured the counterspell under his breath.

"How in bloody Merlin's name," James stood on two shaky feet. "are you able to cast spells like that?"

"My parents teach me," Sirius said, finally proud to bring them up.

"They aren't supposed to do that," the scrawny boy said, sounding amused.

"Perks of being a Black- um, what was your name?"

"Remus." The boy didn't sit up straighter as he spoke. He didn't stutter, recoil, he didn't look scared in the slightest. Sirius had a newfound appreciation for the shabby eleven-year-old. He knew his parents would disapprove, but for the first time, he didn't care. "My name is Remus Lupin."

"Pleasure to meet you," Sirius smiled. He took his seat, as did James. All four boys looked at each other, smiles growing on their faces. Something broke inside of Sirius, with a snap like Kreacher's whip. Consequently, the tension in the compartment was slashed, and the four boys started laughing. About what, they didn't know- but a common understanding was reached between them. Sirius let his guard down, and barely flinched when James put his feet on his lap. He swung an arm around Peter, who looked at James with more adoration than Sirius thought possible.

"You're very touchy," Remus laughed, looking at James fondly.

"Runs in the family," James looked at Sirius purposefully, before they both started another laughing fit. Sirius kept to himself, not use to contact that wasn't Regulus' small hand in his. No one seemed to notice, however, and the four boys chatted and laughed for the entirety of the Hogwarts Express' journey.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Welcome everyone! Hogwarts has missed you dearly." The booming yet friendly voice of Albus Dumbledore rang through the Great Hall. Sirius drank in his surroundings; the House tables, the chatting students, the flickering candles overhead. The enormous windows, the professors, the Headmaster. It was all so surreal for him.

"Before I proceed with the start-of-term announcements, we have some eager First Years waiting to be sorted. So, let the ceremony begin! Minerva, if you will."

A woman with a bun, sleek and tinged with gray, stepped forward. She placed the Sorting Hat on its stool and called the First Years to the front of the Great Hall. As they walked, Remus leaned over Sirius' shoulder.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Sorting Hat," Sirius answered. He realized how much he liked being the one to inform Remus of the many things he was unaware of. "You put it on and it, sort of, sees what you've got in you. Then it puts you in one of the Houses."

"Oh," Remus replied simply. For the first time since Sirius had met him, Remus looked quite frightened.

 _"Black, Sirius!"_

The Minerva woman called, startling Sirius. He regained his composure quickly, walking with a loping grace to the stool up front. His father's commands were ringing in his ears, and he squeezed his hands together to keep them from shaking. As he sat on the stool, he saw Dumbledore and Minerva giving him serious, pointed looks. They reminded him of his parents. He decided he didn't like them.

Before the gargantuan hat fell atop his head, Sirius glanced at the Slytherin table, where blurs of his relatives sat with stiff backs and expectant looks.

"Ahhh, another Black, I see," the Sorting Hat hummed.

 _"Yes,"_ Sirius thought, knowing the Hat could hear him.

"But, oh my, this is rather interesting."

 _"What? What's wrong?"_

"It seems that you're not just any other Black, no you are not. You possess many Slytherin qualities, but-"

 _"But!"_

"-but you seem to have a sort of, shall we say, hidden core. No, Hufflepuff is completely wrong. Ravenclaw? No, no, you haven't an inch of an attention span…"

 _"Hey!"_

"But this is quite interesting. You have a staggering capacity for loyalty, bravery, courageousness- it outweighs what I see in most of your sort."

 _"No, no, no. It does not. I have to be in Slytherin. I have to be in Slytherin!"_

"You think you have to be, but you don't, Black. You don't want to be. You wouldn't belong."

 _"Yes I would! I would belong! I have- I have to belong, you stupid hat!"_

"I'm doing you a huge favor."

 _"N-no,"_ Sirius begged. However, his resolve was weakening. Why did he have to be in Slytherin? Sirius thought of his family- their shrewd, unhappy, mean faces. Perhaps Slytherin made them such grumps? But then Sirius thought of all the backlash (literally) he'd receive if he wasn't sorted into the family House. Lastly, Sirius thought of Regulus. He thought of all the times that he'd taken his brother's beatings, blamed himself for things that his little brother did, and how he'd do anything for the little twerp.

Maybe Sirius Black was brave. Loyal. Courageous.

Suddenly, as if the Sorting Hat had followed Sirius' train of thought, it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

The Great Hall went silent. Completely silent. Sirius started shaking, and he couldn't conceal it this time. The Minerva woman pulled the Hat off Sirius' head, looking at him with shock and concern. Sirius turned to see Dumbledore, originally suspicious and weary, looking amused and proud. What had just happened?

"Go sit down, Mr. Black," Minerva said.

Sirius swallowed the lump in his throat, stood from his place, and walked with heavy footsteps to the Gryffindor table. He sat at the end, stealing glances at the Slytherins, most of which were related to him. They stared back with disdain and disgust. Sirius looked at the other First Years, who were unmoving and terrified. James' mouth was hanging open, as was Peter's. The only person who seemed confused by the shock that plagued the room was Remus. Figures.

"Professor McGonagall will now proceed with the Sorting," Dumbledore said calmly, winking at Sirius. He felt like he was going to be sick.

Everyone else, though, had regained their composure, and the ceremony went on as normal. Minerva, who Sirius now knew as Professor McGonagall, lifted the Sorting Hat up and down on students' heads, yet none of the others took as long as Sirius. Remus' came close, but he was eventually sorted into Gryffindor. He sat down, but Sirius didn't glance at the newly filled seat next to him. Remus would be full of questions, and Sirius didn't want to give any answers.

Peter ended up with the two of them, and Sirius' face burned with shame. His family would be getting an earful about how their Heir was sitting next to a scrawny wimp and a fat lard. In return, Sirius' winter holiday was not going to be very fun.

Completely juxtaposing Sirius, James' sorting was perhaps the quickest one of them all. The Hat barely touched his unruly hair before it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" and James took his seat proudly across from Sirius.

The rest of the ceremony was completed, and Professor McGonagall took her seat at the front table. Dumbledore gave a short speech about someone named Filch, and the new additions to his "forbidden items" list. Sirius wasn't listening, but some of the things he caught were rather intriguing.

The other part of his speech was about a newly planted Whomping Willow, and how dangerous it was, and blah, blah, blah. Images of angry parents and a bloody, stinging back distracted Sirius. The sounds of his screams and Kreacher's laughs resonated with him, and as food started appearing in front of them, Sirius didn't move a muscle.

"Sirius, aren't you going to eat?" It was Remus that spoke.

"No."

"The food's r-really good," Peter said. Merlin- that stutter drove Sirius insane, and Peter only used it with him. The prat was probably just trying to push his buttons, Sirius thought. His parents told him that people that plump were always up to no good.

"Don't care."

"C'mon mate, surely you're happy now," James smiled at Sirius, but he wasn't having it.

"Happy now? Surely I'm happy now? You think I wanted this, don't you? You ignorant prat, I don't want to be a bloody Gryffindor! I don't need their-"

But before Sirius could finish, an enormous black owl flew into the Great Hall. Post wasn't supposed to arrive until the second day of school, to prevent emotional outbursts from home-sick students, and allow everyone time to settle. However, the owl was carrying a tell-tale red envelope, and flying directly for Sirius.

"Shite," Sirius growled, instantly recognizing the menace. It was the Black family's owl, named Vedette, who seemed to only ever bring the Heir bad news. Tonight was no exception.

The Great Hall was pointing and gasping, while some Slytherins were laughing into the sleeves of their robes. Dumbledore looked extremely angry.

Remus turned to James, confused. "What's that?"

"Howler," James began, but Sirius tuned out his explanation. Vedette dropped the letter in Sirius' lap, and he took it in his hands.

This was the angriest one he'd ever seen. It was shaking and snarling and radiating pure disdain, which is why Sirius opened as fast as possible. Any longer and it would've been hours of Hell, rather than what was coming.

The red ribbon slipped away, and Walburga Black's shrill screams filled the Great Hall.

"SIRIUS ORION BLACK! You filthy, filthy disgrace! You blubbering, blundering, babbling ignoramus! You have besmirched the name of the Noble and Moste Ancient House of Black! You'll be tainted by Mudbloods and Halfbreeds in the disgusting House you've allowed yourself to be a part of! The entire family is disappointed with you! You have disappointed everyone, yet again! I am very angry, Sirius Black! Very angry! You are a miserable excuse of an Heir!"

"You are a miserable excuse of a son!" his father piped in, yelling throatily. Sirius had never heard his father yell like that before. His mother, sure, but the end of the letter was like a knife going straight through Sirius' heart- and twisting. The letter erupted into a small fit of flames, turning to ash and eventually scattering across the floor.

Everyone in the Hall was wide-eyed, with the exception of one Slytherin. Bellatrix Black, currently in her fifth year of schooling, was cackling madly in her seat. Her younger sister, Narcissa Black, was a Third Year, and was staring absentmindedly at her plate. Sirius looked at both of his cousins with a pained expression before standing from his seat and storming out of the Great Hall.

He heard James, Peter, and Remus- particularly Remus- calling after him, but he paid no mind. He didn't know where he was going, or if he was going to be punished for leaving dinner early, but he didn't care. He was, according to his parents, a miserable excuse of an Heir, a son, and a human being, and all he wanted to do was find a dark room and cry.

But Sirius Black would be damned if anyone saw him, so he didn't let the first tear fall until he charmed the door of a random broom closet locked.


	3. III

**Guess who's back, back, back!**

 **SOOO I pretty much deserve the Worst Updater Ever Award because I just had two weeks of holiday break, yet I did absolutely no work over it (: I was just a lazy turd (:**

 **In short, I'm sorry for the obnoxiously long wait lol. However, I hope you loveeee this chapter and as always, follows/favorites/comments are appreciated greatly. You all are the best and I hope 2016 will be a fantastic year for each and every one of you! (P.S. TheFangirlWorm is a lovely person and I thought everyone should know(: )**

III.

" _Beauty is about being comfortable in your own skin. It's about knowing and accepting who you are."_

– _Ellen Degeneres_

The wet trail of Sirius' tears seemed to permanently stain his cheeks. They fell in great numbers, but silently- Sirius had trained himself to cry without making noise, so his parents (and more importantly, Kreacher) wouldn't find out. The Black Family thought it was an utter disgrace to shed tears, no matter the circumstance. They thought it especially unbecoming of the Heir, and Sirius' punishment for crying was, consequently, brutal.

The eleven-year-old couldn't understand why everything he did went so terribly wrong. His mother and father asked only a few things of him, and he could never comply. It wasn't like he didn't try- Sirius always did his best to make them proud. But somehow, someway, he never could.

Merlin, he was miserable.

As were the three blokes currently searching for him, Sirius thought. Why in Godric's name would they still be trying to help him? He'd basically called Potter's family a piece of shite, he'd made his disgust for Pettigrew evident, and Remus- well, he didn't really have much to say for the scrawny, scarred boy. He was an enigma, alright.

But mind-blowingly weird… yes, that's his problem. Sirius found comfort in labeling Remus as the loony that he was.

Yet all three boys were calling his name somewhere outside the door of this broom cupboard, begging him to come out of hiding. Sirius wanted to be angry with them, but he didn't have the energy. He felt emotionally and physically drained, and he wouldn't mind sleeping for the next few years.

However, an obnoxious banging jolted Sirius from his tired state. He stood from his place on the floor, wrapping his arms around his waist protectively. He wiped his puffy eyes, and glared at the door.

"Hello?"

"What d'you want?"

Sirius' voice rang out over another, girlish one. He was affronted. Had the blokes from the train employed their entire class to search for him? How bloody embarrassing!

"Sirius Black? Are you in there?" the girl's voice came again, followed by more obnoxious banging on the broom cupboard door. It was starting to give Sirius a headache.

"Who's speaking?" Sirius asked.

"Open the door and I'll tell you!" More banging. Merlin, Sirius didn't like this girl. He stuck out his chin and walked forward, flinging the door open.

However, instead of intimidating the culprit of the most awful banging, a tiny fist nailed Sirius' nose, and he stumbled backward as pain shot through his face. He felt something warm trailing past his chin, and he knew that it wasn't his tears.

"Fucking hell!" Sirius screeched, sounding scarily like his father. He clutched his nose, realizing that it felt a bit off. If the obnoxious girl had in any way cocked up his face, she'd have to answer to Walburga and Orion Black. She probably wouldn't make it out alive.

"O-oh, I, well, honestly, Sirius! I didn't know you'd be standing that close to the door! You didn't give me any warning, and I just, I, Merlin. I'm sorry. I wasn't even hitting that hard-maybe you have fragile bones. Or maybe I-"

"Shut it!" Sirius opened his eyes, stormy blue meeting a resilient green. The girl standing in front of Sirius was about a head shorter than him, with auburn hair that fell to her waist in a neat plait. She was skinny, bony, and awkward-looking, with light freckles across the bridge of her pale nose.

"I realize I may have been rambling," she said, raising an eyebrow.

"May," Sirius scoffed. "Just leave me alone."

"I don't think so," she crossed her arms, and Sirius felt like punching the girl's stupid nose back. "I didn't go through all this to find you and then 'leave you alone.'"

"All this? What d'you mean?"

The girl closed the door behind her, locking it with the same charm Sirius had used before. Alright, so she wasn't stupid, Sirius concluded. She was like a breath of fresh air in that respect.

The girl pulled Sirius onto the floor with her, and they sat criss-cross opposite each other as she started her story. "I mean, this idiotic boy with glasses and stupid hair caught me on my way to the toilets. He said he was looking for his mate, Sirius Black, and asked if I'd help. I only said yes because another lad came over and told him to stop ogling me, and then proceeded to ask for my assistance in a much more dignified manner."

Sirius realized that the idiot she was referring to was James, and since he couldn't imagine Pettigrew talking to a pretty-ish girl in a "dignified manner," the other boy in the story must've been Remus.

"Anyways, now that I've found you, you have to tell me why you were hiding."

"Excuse me?" Sirius was taken aback. How dare she demand things from the Heir to the Noble and Moste Ancient House of Black?

"I said-"

"No, no. I heard you. But why d'you think I have to tell you why I'm hiding?"

"I suppose you don't have to. I could leave you here to pout like a baby-"

"I wasn't pouting!"

"-and mope about, seeking attention-"

"I'm not seeking attention, my family plagues me with it! I didn't get sorted into bloody Slytherin and now I'm the most disgraceful, disgusting piece of shite they've ever laid eyes on!"

"Ah, now we're going places. The Black bloodline is historically pureblood and Slytherin."

"Really? I hadn't a clue."

"No, listen. You're supposed to be the one to inherit the Black's wealth, but you've been sorted into Slytherin's natural opposite, Gryffindor."

"This is pathetic. I don't need you to rehash the problems that I'm very aware of on my own-"

"And now your mother and father are affronted with your misstep, and you're afraid of, well, what exactly?"

"What am I afraid of? Were you not in the Great Hall when I received my Howler?"

"So you're afraid of them yelling at you?"

"No, you great bint! I'm afraid of-" Sirius covered his mouth. He was saying too much. He was telling this random girl about his problems, and she'd probably go telling every student in Hogwarts. He didn't need that in his life, on top of the Hell he'd be getting from his family.

"Of?"

"No, no, just leave, please. Just leave."

The girl seemed to realize that Sirius was exhausted, and she finally stopped being so stubborn. She stood from her place on the floor, and looked at Sirius with annoyingly caring eyes. "Okay, I'll leave. But if you ever need to tell someone what you're afraid of, Sirius, I'm here. You don't seem that awful."

"Gee, thanks."

The girl laughed, and Sirius was surprised when he cracked a smile.

"See, you're already happier. Gryffindor's much better than Slytherin anyway, so don't be too upset. And even if that stupid boy with the hair and the spectacles is your mate, at least you have the other one to keep you company. I think you all are roommates."

Oh, Sirius thought. James and Remus. His roommates. It felt weird to think of them like that- it felt too intimate. But Sirius couldn't be bothered by his new- well, he guessed they were his mates, including the fat one. Sirius felt disgustingly nice, and he knew his parents would be utterly dismayed with his show of friendliness towards such scum.

But oddly enough, Sirius didn't really care what his parents thought of his new mates right then. They'd grown on him a very, very small bit, and they were about to be roommates for seven years, after all.

"I'm Lily, by the way," the girl spoke from the doorway. "Lily Evans."

"Cool," Sirius said. "I'll see you around, Lily."

The Heir to the Noble and Moste Ancient House of Black added Lily Evans to his list of new mates. Maybe Gryffindor wasn't as terrible as his mother and father had always said.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Sirius was in a bit of a predicament. After much struggling, he'd finally reached the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, but the bulbous lady in the portrait wouldn't let him through.

"Password?" she kept asking.

"Don't have one," Sirius would reply. He proceeded to explain how he was indeed sorted into Gryffindor, but the portrait lady wasn't having it. Sirius decided that he didn't like her.

However, Sirius' savior came in the form of a very scrawny, scarred, familiar eleven year old.

"It's _salivamus,_ " Remus said, and the Fat Lady swung the door open.

"Oh I see," Sirius frowned petulantly. "You know shite about everything but you're all in-the-know about the Common Room password."

"The whole of the class is in-the-know, Sirius. The prefects told us at the end of the castle tour. James, Peter and I missed most of it, because-"

"You were too busy being prats, trying to find someone who clearly didn't want to be found?"

"No, we were preoccupied with worry over a boy who was clearly in distress over his Sorting, and we wanted to help him. He's our friend."

"Like Hell he is!" Sirius realized that talking in the third person wasn't helping his case. "I mean, like Hell I am!"

After the debaucle with the Fat Lady, Sirius had changed his mind about Gryffindor. He didn't like this House, nor did he like the notion of being friends with his scum-ish acquaintances any longer. And that was final. With his venomous sentence acting as a stalemate, the two boys walked into the Common Room. The Fat Lady was beyond annoyed at the both of them for the holdup, and Remus sent her an apologetic look that Sirius failed to see.

"You're quite angry over nothing, Sirius."

The Heir to the Noble and Moste Ancient House of Black swung around on his heel, staring the skinny boy in the eyes. They were hazel, with a bit of a yellow glint. The boy was just an inch shorter than Sirius, but he had an infallible presence- akin to the Heir's. They continued looking at each other for some time, Sirius unable to speak. No one had ever tried to dissipate his frequent anger spells before. Normally he was egged on, pushed to the edge before he looked down and backed away. But this was different. Remus was different.

It made his head hurt.

"Just bugger off," Sirius settled on, before storming up the steps to the boy's dormitories.

"Our room is the last door on the left!" Remus called, and Sirius damned him for knowing what he was thinking all of the time.

The dormitory was very comfortable looking, with four-poster beds clad in red and gold blankets. There was a large window adjacent to the door, looking out onto the grounds. A heater was in the center of the mahogany floor, but as it was September, it was shut off.

Sirius' eyelids were heavy, and he turned his attention back to the four-posters. His trunk was placed on top of the one next to the window, so he held his chin high and walked toward it. He placed his black, menace-of-a-trunk on the ground, before crawling under the covers and-

"Hey!"

"MERLIN!"

James came through the bathroom door, a large smile on his boyish face. He faltered slightly at Sirius' exclamation, but recovered quickly. "Okay there, mate?"

 _I'm not your mate,_ Sirius thought venomously. "No, I'm not. Don't bloody scare me like that." His heart was still racing from the unexpected entrance.

"Can't say I'm sorry."

"Pardon?"

"You're very uptight, Sirius. I know you're a Black and everything, but your parents aren't here, so what's the point of you acting like a prat all the time?"

Sirius thought about that. "I, I have cousins. They'll tell my parents that I'm fraternizing with scum."

"Alright, well, um, I'm going to pretend you didn't just call me scum, and give you some advice." James sat on Sirius' bed, swinging an arm around his shoulders. He was very touchy, Remus had been right.

"Go on."

"Well, fuck your cousins."

Sirius let out a bark of laughter. He himself swore often, and he liked knowing that James wasn't immune to it either.

"I'd rather not. Bellatrix is frighteningly aggressive and Narcissa's an air-headed Virgin Queen," Sirius joked.

"Oh Merlin, I didn't mean it like that!" James was laughing- a loud, charismatic sound that was infectious to the Heir. "I meant, who cares what they say? They're just a couple of girls. Once we get our hands on some advanced spellbooks, we'll be able to scare them into next summer and they'll never snitch on you."

Sirius liked the sound of that. His parents had already taught him a few handy spells, and he was naturally talented with a wand. Bellatrix was too, but he could take her. As for Narcissa… well, she didn't have much going for her except her looks, so she'd be a breeze.

"Yeah, yeah, you're right, I guess."

"I am most of the time, mate." James waggled his eyebrows, and both boys laughed freely.

Sirius felt something odd tug at his chest. He didn't mind James calling him mate right then. It actually felt good- natural. Sirius had never made any friends his age before, not ones that he could laugh and swear and joke with. Normally they were all children of other high-class Pureblood families, and frankly, they were all tight-arses. Regulus was the only boy who he could actually have fun with, but even he was a stickler for following the rules and avoiding trouble. That'd never been Sirius' style. He liked pushing people's buttons, however, he liked making people proud just the same. Sirius concluded that everything was too complicated in his home life.

At the moment, though, he didn't care that James was a Potter, a bloodtraitor. He didn't care that he was a Black, that he was an Heir to more money than he (or anyone else) could imagine. He didn't care about anything, really. It felt good.

"What's so funny?"

A nasally voice drew Sirius out of his reverie, and he opened his eyes to find the Peter boy standing there. He was annoyed that the lard was going to share a room with him, but he did take note of the fact that Peter didn't stutter when he spoke to the other two boys. He was getting less insufferable with every passing moment.

"Sirius is going to lose the git act," James explained through his dissipating giggles.

"And James is going to fuck my cousins," Sirius added, and the pair broke out into hysterics once more. He realized that Peter must be terribly confused, but that didn't stop him from joining in the laughter- nor did it stop James from hooking Peter around the neck and pulling him onto Sirius' bed. The boys laughed and laughed, the occasional incest joke causing more raucous.

Sirius realized that this must be what it's like to be normal, to not be the Heir to the Noble and Moste Ancient House of Black, and he quite liked it. Except… something was missing. Something important.

Sirius thought for a moment, before- oh! He realized.

Where had Remus gone off to?


	4. IV

**Hellooooooo I'm back with the fourth chapter of Metanoia!**

 **I was kind of stumped when I started writing this, but I hope you like it- it's the first day of classesss. Reviews, follows, and favorites are of course extremely appreciated, and you can message me on Tumblr if you wanna at my user- wolfstarstreet. I'm always in the mood to procrastinate and talk about my two fave cinnamon buns.**

 **Anywayyy I have a ton of things to do, so I leave you with these 4,000 words and I hope you have a great day :)**

IV.

" _All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make, the better."_

 _-Ralph Waldo Emerson_

"Has anyone seen Remus lately?" Sirius asked James and Peter. The fit of giggles between the eleven-year-olds had died down significantly.

"Dunno," Peter shrugged.

"Me either." James got up from the bed and headed to his own, on the left of Sirius'. Peter followed suit and walked to the bed opposite him, which left Remus' bed to be on the right of the Heir's.

"Where could he be?" Sirius worried his lip between his teeth.

"Probably exploring a bit," Peter said. The fear of having a Black in the room had definitely subsided, Sirius realized, and he appreciated that the plump boy was no longer cowering like an idiot in his presence. "Remus is very observant."

"Has to be," James piped in. "He told me his father works at the Ministry, but his mother is a Muggle. Since his dad's always working, it's usually just him and his mom, he said."

"He grew up quite Muggle, then?" Sirius asked, intrigued at the scarred boy's upbringing. He knew he should be appalled at his new friend's Mudblood status, and he did feel that initial pang of hatred. But he reminded himself that his parents weren't around, and that he could make his own decisions, so he reassured himself that he liked Remus. Remus was his friend, pure-blooded or not.

"Yup. So he's not very good with magic and stuff, yet. He's caught on pretty quick, though- Pete's right, Rem analyzes everything."

Sirius decided not to question that nickname, and instead pulled at the threads of his red and gold blanket. That is, until a large pillow smacked him upside the head, and he looked up. "What the hell?"

"Stop being a tight-arse, Sirius. Rem is fine. Go to sleep."

Sirius wasn't one to be ordered around, but he knew James meant no harm. He threw the pillow back at him, landing a shot straight on the other boy's back. He fell forward, laughing, and Sirius decided that James was right. Remus couldn't possibly be in any danger on the first day. So with a cleared state of mind, he pulled off his school uniform and replaced it with Slytherin green pajamas from his trunk. He pulled the blankets over his shoulder, tugged the curtains of his four-poster shut, and closed his eyes.

"See you lot in the morning," James said. Peter replied, and Sirius gave a small hum of agreement before drifting off.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Sirius was awoken just hours later. The door moaned as it opened, like some sort of wounded animal, and the floor whined under someone's foot. Sirius sat up, just in time to hear a familiar voice curse under its breath.

"Remus?" Sirius whispered, now conscious of the fact that the other two boys were asleep.

"I'm sorry, Sirius. Did I wake you? I didn't mean to be so loud," Remus whispered back.

"No, I don't care. It's much louder at home." And Merlin, that was for sure. Sirius normally snuck away from haughty Black family dinner parties by feigning fatigue. He'd lay in his bed for hours on end, listening to his cousins and aunts and uncles complain and argue and whatever else. A squeaky door and one soft swear was much more preferable. "So where've you been?"

Remus sighed deeply as he pulled on his pajama top. "With Dumbledore, but it's nothing, don't worry. It's late and I'm knackered, Sirius. We can talk some other time."

Sirius didn't like being rejected, but he murmured his agreement and turned around, trying to fall back asleep.

Remus noticed how his response had flattened Sirius, and he apologized for being uptight. He always got that way around this time. "Anyway- goodnight, Sirius."

"Goodnight, Remus."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

 _Thick, red tears were slowly making their way down his pale cheeks, like molasses. They left a sickening trail of maroon behind them, before pooling at the corners of his mouth. His wide blue eyes were blinking rapidly, but their vision was impaired by the sticky strands of blood. They were stained, he'd have to see red forever, he'd never be able to…_

 _"Sirius!" he cried, a waterfall of the oozing liquid tipping over his lip. The scarlet colour now stained his small chin, and it dripped onto his lap._

 _"Sirius!" the small voice came again, but it was cut off by the sound of choking. The boy couldn't breathe through the thickness of the blood that came billowing upward from the back of his throat. He clutched at his chest, but his nails punctured his thin skin, prompting more blood to escape his body. In long spurts, the substance trailed down his bare chest._

 _The boy, originally sitting upright, fell backward onto a sheet of white tile. Much like his porcelain skin, the floor was immediately stained with a sickening maroon. It wouldn't stop fighting its way out of the helpless boy; he was poison, and the blood was desperately trying to escape before it caught his plague._

 _"S-s, Siri-u-s," the boy spluttered, before the hand clutching his heart went limp. His scarlet eyes stopped their incessant twitching, and the blood stopped running, as did the beat of the boy's screaming heart._

"Sirius!"

Sirius sprung into a sitting position, colliding with something on top of him. His head throbbed, his ears were ringing, and every inch of his skin was covered in a cold sweat. His mouth, however, was dry as a bone. He opened and closed it multiple times, as the voice that shocked him awake continued on.

"Bloody hell, are you alright? Sirius, come on, tell me you're okay. You're scaring me!"

"I'm fine," Sirius breathed, wiping tears from his eyes. He reached out, desperately in need to feel the boy in front of him, to be brought back into reality. He grasped a bony wrist, immediately directing his train of thought to his younger brother.

Remus realized that Sirius was getting worked up once again, so, in one not-so-swift movement, he yanked the other eleven-year-old into a hug. Sirius stiffened, but didn't pull away.

"You're not fine," Remus said into Sirius' silky black locks.

"I'm gonna be, though, Rem," Sirius said. He realized that the nickname slipped past his lips, but decided not to say anything.

"You were having a nightmare, what about?" Remus pulled out of the hug, looking expectantly towards the other boy.

"It's nothing," Sirius pulled off his shirt, suddenly aware of how hot he was. He kicked his comforter off of him, rather rudely forcing Remus to scooch to the other side of the bed.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me," Remus crossed his arms, and the glint of moonlight coming from the window highlighted the crisscrossed scars on them. Sirius wondered where they came from, but was distracted by the other boy's demand.

"Then you're not leaving," Sirius spat, turning around and forcefully dropping his head on his pillow. It made his headache roar to life, but he was thankful that Remus couldn't see him wince. Either way, the boy was true to his word. Remus turned around, pulled Sirius' covers over his shoulder, and both eleven-year olds slowly drifted back into a deep sleep.

For Remus, anyway. Sirius' night was a restless disaster. Every time he closed his eyes, the terrifying images of Regulus showed up. He cursed his mother for birthing him first and forcing him to leave behind the poor eight-year-old in their hellhole of a home.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The next day prompted classes to begin, and all of the First Years were buzzing with excitement. Sirius' first class was Transfiguration- as it was for his other three roommates. The four boys had discovered at breakfast that their timetables were quite similar; Peter would be missing from second period Herbology, yes, James wasn't apart of fourth period Charms, Remus and Sirius had Astronomy alone… but those were minor details. The issue at hand was finding the Transfiguration classroom, which everyone was struggling with at the moment.

"Where the hell is it?" Peter whined. The four friends had been wondering through the corridors of Hogwarts for what seemed like hours, hopelessly trying to find where Transfiguration was being taught. They didn't ask the older students for directions, being that they were eleven-year-old boys with a sense of pride and masculinity to maintain. However, they were all regretting their decision as of now.

"If we knew, don't you think we'd be there?" Sirius spat at the shorter boy. He cowered backward, stepping on James' foot.

"Sirius, I thought we agreed you'd stop being a pretentious prat." James looked at the aristocratic boy across from him. His eyebrows were raised, and his lips were turned downward in disappointment.

Sirius didn't respond. He agreed that he would relax, since his parents really had no way of knowing he was misbehaving. However, that didn't make the process any simpler. Sirius had been all straight-back and proper-voice for eleven years. One conversation (albeit a very good conversation) wasn't going to make him forget about the rules back at home.

"What are you gentlemen doing out of class?" Dumbledore's quiet, yet resonating voice filled the young boys' ears. Each of them looked at the other, before they all began to speak at once.

"We c-couldn't f-find-"

"The room is bloody hard to find, sir-"

"We've been lost for forever, Professor Dum-"

"Do they not hand out maps at this school, sir?"

"Ah, I see. No need to worry. What classroom has outsmarted you boys, then?" Dumbledore walked forward, his purple robes swishing behind him.

"Transfiguration." James, Sirius, and Remus answered their Headmaster, but Peter's jaw was ajar as he gaped at the powerful wizard. James noticed his awkward behavior and nudged his elbow. Sirius, on the other hand, let him be the subject of a biting remark under his breath.

Moments later, the boys were walking into their respective classroom. It was split very obviously down the center- whether that was the result of a seating chart or House loyalty, Sirius didn't know- but students from Slytherin house sat in a sea of green on the right side of the room, whilst those dawned in red sat on the left.

"So nice of you four to join us," a woman with impeccable posture and a slicked-back bun said. She was stood in front of the classroom, with long blue robes.

"It was a pleasure to join you, miss," Sirius replied cheekily. The other three boys looked at him with shock while the rest of the class laughed. Even Dumbledore, who was standing in the doorway, cracked a small smile. He didn't know where the comment came from, but he decided that he'd be coming up with more of them. The warm feeling of public approval and admiration was something he'd been craving for eleven years.

"You will refer to me as Professor, Professor McGonagall. What is your-"

But the woman was cut off, for Sirius turned around and her eyes widened. She took in his silky black hair that fell in elegant tresses around his face, his pale eyes swimming in curiosity, his defined yet soft bone structure, and his pale, unblemished skin. She realized that this was no ordinary boy, no- this was Sirius Black, the Heir to the Noble and Moste Ancient House of Black, the boy who'd defied tradition and been sorted into Gryffindor House; her House.

"Minerva, this is Sirius Black," Dumbledore answered the Professor's question.

"Yes, yes I realize who he is." She nodded curtly. "Just take your seats, all four of you."

Dumbledore left not long after, and the class continued with little distraction. However, after metal spoons were passed out and the students were tasked with transfiguring them into forks, distraction flew around the room like a Cornish Pixie.

"What the-"

"Holy-"

"Merlin's hairy balls-"

"Students, please! Speak the incantation clearly!" Professor McGonagall chastised. Students barely listened, and pieces of metal _pinged_ and _panged_ against the walls and desks. The room was filled with the shrieks of students who were poorly executing the transfiguration. However, the yelping was married with the laughter of four young boys, whose spoons were easily transfigured into forks. Sirius, recalling how fantastic he felt when he'd made the class laugh, decided to give it another go.

He'd read this in a book at home, and he prayed to Merlin that he'd pull it off. So, without wasting any more time, he stood from his chair and waved his wand,

" _Malemavus!"_

All at once, the spoons and forks (as well as a few stray bits of metal) lifted into the air. They came back down with a vicious _clang,_ only to lift themselves up and slam back down again. The desks rattled and the students' chairs tipped over, leaving a mess of laughing First Years and unstoppable silverware in the room. Sirius smiled triumphantly, as did James. Peter looked rather terrified, but after glimpsing his two confident friends, he smiled hesitantly. With an odd sense of trepidation bubbling in his chest, Sirius turned around on his heel to gauge Remus' reaction. He had one eyebrow raised, and Sirius didn't know if he was chastising him or impressed. He did, however, have a mischievous smirk on his face- one that made Sirius' stomach flip over.

Why did Remus make him feel so nervous all the time? He didn't know. But, he did realize that he and these three boys were going to be friends for a while. A long while, filled with trouble-making and mischief, brotherhood and happiness.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Classes went by as planned for the rest of the day. Potions was a bit chaotic, as that was the only other class that the Gryffindors shared with the Slytherins. Sirius, absolutely buzzing over the exposure of his mischievous side, cast a few amateur hexes on the Slytherins' stools- causing them to grow wheels and, consequently, roll backward. Several cauldrons ended up tumbling over, and much of the Rat Tonic that the students were making ended up on their laps or on the floor.

The Head of Slytherin House was teaching Potions, and Professor Slughorn was very well-acquainted with members of the Black family. He'd taught the sisters, Andromeda, Bellatrix, and Narcissa, and was desperate to teach the brothers- Sirius and Regulus- regardless of House affiliation. The Heir to the Noble and Moste Ancient House of Black had been in his classroom, and although he's been certain that the troublesome hex was coming from his direction, he'd ignored it.

Throughout the day, it'd been established that Sirius didn't mind being the center of attention. If action had to be taken, he'd be the first to take it- subtlety be damned. James thought Sirius was hilarious, and laughed boisterously at his hijinks. Sirius gave him tips on casting the small spells he'd taught himself, and James learned and implemented them quickly. He had a natural leadership about him, and often led the group to their next class, although he wasn't well-versed with Hogwarts' setup.

The rationale that the group needed took its form in Remus. With a flick of his head, he'd alert Sirius and James when and who to hex. He'd also help them increase the life of their spells with a wand trick he'd read in a book at the library. He'd only gone there once, but it was life-changing. He wanted to soak up as much of the magical world as possible. His three friends were all familiar with wizardry- despite Peter having a Muggle mum- but to him, it was somewhat of a new treasure. He knew he was different than them, in more ways than one, and he wanted to make the most of these next seven years. Remus was also very observant, and he'd taken notice of Hogwarts' many crooks and crevices. After he let James have his way in leading the group to an aimless section of the school, he'd subtlety redirect them to the right hallway to lead them to their destination.

Peter was still a little shy around the other three boys, so his role extended to laughing and providing the encouragement and motivation for the boys to continue causing trouble. He'd occasionally attempt the small hexes that Sirius could do, but he never cast them as accurately or with much oomph. He'd learn, of course. Peter was a smart boy- maybe not as much so as the other three, who were already progressing extraordinarily for their ages- but he was smart.

Now, the boys were sat in the Great Hall, eating dinner after a long first day of classes. The sounds of metal clinking on metal and food sizzling on its pan danced together in the air. Everyone took heaping mouthfuls of mash, pudding, corn bread, and chicken.

Sirius couldn't remember the last time he'd sat down for dinner, not feeling anxious and obligated to follow every rule to the nines. Tonight, his posture was slack, his elbows were proudly on the table, and his every sentence wasn't punctuated with his parent's names. Remus sat to his right, and James and Peter sat across from them.

"Lads, I've decided we need a name," James said in a hushed voice.

"A name?" Peter asked, taking another bite of his pudding.

"Yes, a name. We're going to be legends at this school. The professors already know what we're capable of."

"Are you talking about our pranks?" Sirius was interested now. He raised his left eyebrow and leaned forward in anticipation.

"Exactly what I'm talking about. We'll pull the best ever, but we need some kind of signature, yeah?"

"Four names doesn't quite have a ring to it," Sirius said, nodding.

"What about JSRP?" Peter said shyly.

"Juh-sr-up?" Sirius frowned. "That just sounds idiotic."

Suddenly, a small hand was placed on Sirius' knee. He looked over at Remus, who was shaking his head with a knitted brow. His grip tightened as Sirius opened his mouth again, signaling for him to play nice.

"It's the first letters of our names," Peter shrugged.

"No, no. It should be a word- something like, like, the _Pranksters_!" James punctuated his proposal with a large hand gesture. The boys tried to let him down easy.

"Well, um, I'm not quite sure-"

"It's seems a little generic-"

"That's almost as awful as Merlin's-"

"What are you lot talking about?" A familiar cascade of red hair turned to look at the four boys who were leaned into each other, huddled and out of everyone's earshot. The boys looked round, realizing that a few professors (namely Professor McGonagall) were eyeing them warily, and a few students looked suspicious.

"Nothing, Lily," Sirius assured her, putting on his poker-face; it'd been absolutely perfected after eleven years in a house with Walburga and Orion Black. James, on the other hand, looked to have lost all sense of thought, and was staring at Lily open-mouthed.

She rolled her eyes at the Heir, clearly aware that he was lying but accepting the answer anyway.

"You'll catch flies," she then added to James, who was obviously gawking at her.

The boys decided not to speak anymore about their name until after dinner, which ended without any further significance.

As they exited the Great Hall, Sirius noticed that Dumbledore was looking at Remus over his half-moon spectacles. His blue eyes were scrutinizing his friend- not unkindly, no, but rather with a mix of pride and pity. His lips were tugged up into a barely noticeable smile. Sirius thought it was strange that Dumbledore was paying so much attention toward a single boy in the swarm of students, but he realized that it must have to do with the conversation that Remus had with him the previous night.

Sirius' mind was a melting pot of different emotions regarding Remus. He was very introverted, and he didn't like talking about himself. But he was still mischievous, observant, and was a genuinely interesting person. Sirius wondered what Dumbledore knew about his mate that he didn't, but he didn't push the subject, for fear of ruining their new friendship.

Peter was the last boy to enter their dormitory. He closed the door, sealing it with the locking charm that Sirius showed him earlier. Everyone gathered at the foot of their subsequent beds, sitting on the floor in a circle. James was the first to speak,

"Has anybody got any new ideas?"

The silence that followed counted as a negative answer. The four boys thought momentarily, before deciding to just throw whatever names they thought up out in the open.

"The… Sneaksters?"

"The Quadruple Hex?"

"SRPJ?"

"Merlin, lads, these are bloody awful. We need something good- something catchy. Something people will know us by for the next seven years! If we're going to be the bad-arse marauding pranksters of Hogwarts-"

"The Marauders!" James was cut off by Remus, who was smiling widely from ear to ear. The other boys slowly smiled in return, repeating the word over and over, as if savoring its taste.

"I like that," Peter said, his eyes filled with an unimaginable amount of admiration for the boys around him. He felt so cool, so included- he felt like he was a king.

"That's the name," Sirius said. James laughed giddily, while Remus sat still, a boy of many juxtapositions- confident yet insecure, excited yet subdued, happy yet dark. Either way, the boys turned to Remus and showered him with compliments.

"You're a genius, lad!"

"That's absolutely brilliant!"

"We're the Marauders! It's perfection!"

The other three boys gave their fellow eleven-year-old manly pats on the back that surely didn't match their high-pitched squeals of excitement and their giddy laughter.

Slowly but surely, early evening faded to dusk, and classes would be coming early the next morning. However, none of the Marauders could even think about sleep; their veins were full of adrenaline and excitement at the prospect of all the pranks they were going to pull.

So, when they grew tired of talking about the future, James decided they should play a game.

"Alright lads, what d'you say we play a game of Truth or Dare?"

Peter perked up at the thought. "Yeah, let's do it!"

"Sounds fun," Remus said, smiling.

Sirius knew that Peter's mum was a Muggle. He realized that this 'Truth or Dare' must be a game from their sort- the Potter's were blood-traitors after all, and Peter and Remus had their mums. Sirius, though, had no such Muggle influence on his life, but not wanting to pull a Peter and look like a deer in the headlights, he went along with it.

"Yeah, I love that game."

Peter and James were too busy getting situated more comfortably on the ground that they didn't pay mind to the fakeness of Sirius' answer. Remus, however, was very observant. He took the other boys' obliviousness as an opportunity, leaning over to the Heir.

"Basically, when it's your turn, pick truth or dare. Truth, someone asks you a question and you have to answer honestly. Dare, they tell you do something funny or mental and you do it," Remus whispered. He leaned back to where he was sitting, just as James and Peter- who were now comfortable- started paying attention again.

Sirius didn't know how Remus could read his mind; maybe he'd learnt a spell for it? Either way, he mouthed a sincere 'thank you' to the boy next to him before the game commenced.

"Alright Peter, you do the honors. Truth or dare?"

Everyone looked to the pale, plump boy, who declared he wanted a dare with feigned confidence.

"Alright," James thought for a moment. "I dare you to… lick the floor."

Peter scrunched his nose up in disgust, Remus rolled his eyes, James smiled broadly, and Sirius' face lit up with a newfound love for the Muggle game.

The Marauders were in for a long, long night.


	5. V

**Chapter five can I get a hoot-hootttt!**

 **Sorry it took so long, but I am a student and I have a lot of homework and studying and blah blah blah.**

 **You all know the drill though, haha- I appreciate all of your commentary so, so much, and I love my 8 loyal followers especially! This story is so important to me, and sharing it on here as it grows and develops brings me so much happiness.**

 **So enjoy this chapter! And have a lovely rest of the day- if it's been rough, I hope this cheers you up a little. ;)**

 **OH and by the way… fluffy Wolfstar makes an appearance in this chapter so you gotta reaaaaaddddddd!**

V.

" _A birthday is just another 365 day journey around the sun. Enjoy the trip." –Unknown_

The rest of September and the preceding month of October passed incredibly quickly for the Marauders. They had mastered several new spells- most of them far beyond the complexity of the First Years' curriculum, and most of them used for pranking Slytherins, as well. The group's dynamics were solidifying, making them seem even more intimidating to the rest of the First Years, and even some older students throughout Hogwarts.

Sirius and James were already maturing, and they looked incredibly handsome to anyone with proper eyesight. Sleek black hair fell in elegant cascades on Sirius, and bounced around in cute, curled tresses on James. They each had smooth, pale skin, but James had more of a boyish charm, and Sirius an aristocratic gracefulness. The boys looked like brothers, and they walked around Hogwarts with a confidence that was uniquely their own. Remus and Peter weren't bad looking at all; Remus was tan, and although a little scrawny and scarred, he had wavy hazel hair and an infectious, pearly smile. Peter was the shortest of the bunch, but he had soft blonde hair swooped across his forehead and bright eyes. The only thing that kept the latter two boys from "ruling the school" with the foreboding attitude of their formers was their lack of confidence- Remus and Peter loved their friends, but that love was masked by a thin veil of self-doubt, of worry. Fear that they didn't really belong. Fear that no one really cared.

However, no one questioned them, for anyone who did would have to go through James and Sirius first, which most didn't dare to do; especially now, considering it was the first day of November, and Sirius' birthday was only two short days away. The Heir could not put his tangible excitement into words- this year, 1970, he'd be turning twelve years old without the stale breaths of Walburga and Orion creeping down his neck. Instead, he'd be surrounding by his three new best mates, all of whom he was delighted to find out were younger than him. Peter's birthday wasn't until mid-December, Remus' the beginning of March, and James' the end.

Sirius had grown increasingly guilty about Regulus, though. He promised that he wouldn't forget about his little brother, but in all honesty, Sirius hadn't thought about the little eight-year-old boy in a month. He knew he couldn't use schoolwork as an excuse, because these lessons came easily to him and he had already surpassed the rest of the First Years' embarrassing curriculum. Sirius was merely overwhelmed with the freedom he had at Hogwarts, and his new mates, and the prospect of breaking all of his parents' arbitrary rules.

And besides, thinking of Regulus prompted him to think of other things- other, awful things. He hadn't had a nightmare for weeks, and he really didn't fancy another one.

"Sirius?" Remus had just walked into the Gryffindor Common Room, where Sirius lay draped over the couch, charming the fire logs to dance in the hearth.

"Hmm?" Sirius hummed in acknowledgement.

"I think James is looking for you."

"What for?"

"Not quite sure. He probably needs his ego stroked after mucking something up with Lily."

Both boys laughed, and Remus sat on the cushion that Sirius wasn't occupying on the couch. Sirius looked over at his friend, realizing that something was off. His skin was white, frosty-looking, and his entire body slumped with fatigue. His hair was lifeless, as was his chapped smile and his half-closed eyes. Sirius grabbed Remus' hand in shock, turning him to face in his direction so he could get a better look.

"Bloody hell, Rem! Did you not get any sleep last night or something?"

"The past two, actually," Remus said spitefully, but he immediately tensed- seemingly regretting his choice of words. "It's nothing, really."

"Oh, need to see Madame Pomfrey or something, mate. C'mon, I'll take you-"

"No, Sirius, I've already talked to her. I'm just coming down with a bit of a cold. I'll go get some rest and I should be fine in a few days."

"Days? Remus, is there something you're not saying? Little colds go away in hours, and you like Merlin's arse."

"Thanks, Sirius. That's a real confidence boost."

"You know what I'm saying, are you sure you're-"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, I promise. Now don't keep James waiting, I saw him in the Herbology Courtyard not ten minutes ago." Remus desperately hoped that Sirius would leave. His mind was always fuzzy during the few days leading up to the Day, and his body was indescribably tired, stiff, and sore. He wasn't as articulate as usual, and wanted to avoid any slip-ups around his friend.

Luckily, Sirius took the hint and released Remus' hand. He stood from the couch, albeit reluctantly, and left the Common Room, not, however, before wishing Remus well and bidding him goodnight.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Sirius found James in the Herbology Courtyard, just as Remus had said. He was sitting on the grass, jinxing any Slytherins that ran past. Sirius smiled fondly at his mate, before remembering how awful Remus looked and feeling oddly guilty about it.

"Oi, James!" Sirius called.

"Sirius!" James gave him a toothy grin as the other boy sat with him in the open area.

"What's happening, mate?"

"I wanted to talk about your birthday plans."

"Ah, what d'you suppose we do? It has to be good."

"I know, I know. I've been thinking about it… but what've you done before?"

"Merlin, don't worry about that. Unless you're thinking about throwing a tight-arse dinner party and inviting all my cousins-doubling-as-aunts, we're fine."

Sirius and James both laughed, before falling into a comfortable silence. It was after James gave an unsuspecting Slytherin a pair of antlers when Sirius remembered what Remus had said about James with Lily.

"So mate, how's it going with Lily?"

James scrunched up his face and he fisted the grass between his fingers. "Bloody awful. She's being so stubborn- I've asked her about a hundred times if she'll go out with me, and she says no every time. What could she possibly want?"

Sirius thought for a second before shrugging his shoulders. "Not like I'd know. I'll never have to worry about girls, my lovely mum's just going to pick the most successful one of my cousins. Bellatrix has top billing as of now, I think."

"Fucking nasty, mate, I think I just vomited a little." James tugged at his unruly hair. "That's bollocks, anyway. You're not marrying that bitch, I'm not letting that happen to my best mate. We'll get you a girl, a good one. One who's cool and likes quidditch, and someone who's really fit, you know."

Sirius smiled and knocked James' shoulder with his own. He was in no mood to explain to James why no girl from the "outside" would ever be good enough for the likes of his stuffy parents, so he went with it, instead. "Thanks, James. What d'you say we hook me up with Lily?"

At that, James looked scandalized. "Oh right, like I'd ever let you steal my Lily away. She'll come around- at least I'm hoping. And even if she doesn't, you can't have her. Marauders Code, and all."

"Relax, mate. Lily's just a friend. Maybe I'll talk to her sometime, hook you all up, and wait, Marauders Code? We have a code now?"

"Yeah, I wrote one up. I thought I'd show you, Rem, and Pete later on. But that's beside the point, we were making birthday plans."

"Well let's make them while we walk back to the Common Room. It's cold as Merlin's arse out."

Both James and Sirius started on their walk back to the castle. They cast a few wayward spells on unsuspecting students, and charmed a few benches to dance across the school grounds. In the lull of silence that followed their jinx on one of Bellatrix's friends, Mayella, Sirius broached the subject of Remus.

"So, have you seen Remus today?" he asked, feigning nonchalance.

"Yeah, back in class. He looked like absolute hell. Just like last month- I reckon he gets sick a lot, you know?"

There was a hesitation, and then, "James, I don't think Remus is being all that honest. It's bloody weird that he comes down with that bad of a cold at the beginning of every month."

James thought about that. "I know, but what else could it be? Remus is a small bloke, Sirius, I wouldn't doubt that he just gets sick easily."

"Yeah, alright. I still think it's strange, though. Maybe it's just the Muggle in him, yeah?"

James smacked Sirius on his arm, and gave him one of his infamous "I'm-Disappointed-In-You" faces. "Don't talk about Muggles like that, you twat."

"Sorry, I'm sorry." And Sirius truly meant it. James, Remus, and Peter had all been helping him learn to be less prejudiced, less hateful of people that were different from him. It made Sirius feel warm inside, feel like he wasn't a hateful prick but rather an actual member of society. He liked it, and he hoped that someday he could teach Regulus what his friends taught him, and together they could grow up and change the Black family's reputation. Someday.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The two days before Sirius' birthday passed in a flurry of excitement. None of the Marauders payed much attention in class- James, Sirius, and Peter were too busy with planning, and Remus didn't show up most of the time. He was admitted into the hospital wing on November 2nd, apologizing profusely for missing out on the birthday fun. The other boys were completely understanding, of course, but that didn't stop Remus from feeling awful about it.

He wasn't completely devoid from the plans, though, because after classes the rest of the Marauders would come to his hospital bed and lay all over his legs- hogging all of the sheets- while they talked about what food they wanted at the party. Peter's uncle's house elf, Glenny, worked in the kitchens, and after bribing him with a Galleon from Sirius' trunk, Glenny agreed to hook up the boys with whatever food they wanted- on the condition that they were leftovers, of course. Glenny told them not to count on him nicking food for them all the time, and used Sirius' birthday as an excuse for the "special occasion."

Madam Pomfrey, who was the head nurse in the hospital wing, had taken to a certain love-hate relationship with Sirius, James, and Peter. Remus seemed to be the absolute light of her life; she coddled him like a child, fetched him whatever he wanted, and spoke to him like he was a king. The other boys, however, seemed to be quite the nuisance to her.

"Boys!" she'd cry, as three-fourths of the Marauders came storming into the hospital wing. "Slow down! You're going to disturb the patients!"

But they needn't worry, because with a little winking, smiling, and flirtatious one-liners, Madam Pomfrey would let them be. The boys always knew that she wasn't too mad, because at the end of the day, she'd always let them stay with Remus for an extra ten minutes past visiting hours. Whether that was Remus' doing or the rest, no one knew.

Anyways, due to their extensive visiting, Remus was fully aware of the plans for Sirius' birthday. The Marauders were going to throw a party in the Common Room, and all Gryffindors were invited. James was going to be the host and decorate the place, while Peter was in charge of getting food and providing music. Sirius didn't have to do anything, except look like his "charming self," as he put it. Half the school was already in love with him, so it wouldn't be hard to get people to show up. Turning twelve was a big deal, after all. He was becoming a man, and although his looks were already astounding, he grew into them more and more every day. Girls, especially, didn't fail to take notice.

So, on the night on November 3rd, it wasn't a surprise when an influx of pretty birds- First Years all the way up to Sevenths- showed up to Sirius' birthday party. No one was dressed in their school uniforms, no- the students came down from their dormitories wearing their best. The younger girls wore flowy dresses of all sorts of colors, while the boys wore collared shirts and jeans. The older boys looked a little nicer in flattering button-downs, and the older girls looked anything but innocent. Their skirts rode up to mid-thigh, the cuts of their shirts were deep and revealing, and their faces were painted with dark makeup. They were shameless in flirting with the now-twelve-year-old Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. He was already well-endowed, but they knew that if they were the girl he married, they'd be set for a life filled with millions upon millions of shimmering Galleons and Sickles and more.

Sirius was young, but he wasn't stupid by any means. He knew the ladies only cared about his money, but that didn't mean that he wasn't going to flirt with them. They were hot- perhaps a little skanky- but hot nonetheless, and he was twelve now. He was old enough to make his own decisions.

But whether his decisions were his in his new, older state was debatable, for one of the older boys- a Sixth Year, Sirius thought- brought three giant bottles of Ogden's Old Firewhisky to the party.

Now, it wasn't like the Heir hadn't had a drink before. His family had been giving him small glasses of Sherry since he was old enough to sit at the dinner table and eat properly. At parties, he was always able to sneak some Firewhisky from his parents, as long as it wasn't enough for them to notice. But right now, Sirius was given the opportunity to drink as much of the ember liquid as he so pleased, and if he was a mature, responsible young man, he'd only drink a glass- letting himself feel a little light-headed, but not letting it get too far.

However, Sirius was a twelve-year-old boy who'd been kept under a shifty card-tower of rules since he was born, and tonight was the night, he decided, that he was going to blow the metaphorical cards down.

In other words, Sirius Black and his two best mates got completely, stupidly pissed.

"Another?" Philip, a Seventh Year, and the self-proclaimed "bartender" of the night asked the birthday boy.

"Another," Sirius laughed, at nothing in particular. "Two rounds, actually."

Loud music was bouncing off the Common Room's walls with vigor, dancing alongside the electrified bodies of almost every Gryffindor at Hogwarts. The candles normally illuminating the space were charmed to change colors every now and then, so the room was filled with soft hues of purples, reds, yellows, blues, and greens. Many students were buzzed with alcohol, their underage bodies not needing much to make them feel unstoppable. People were eating, snogging in every plausible part of the room, having a laugh, jumping around, throwing random charms and jinxes at each other… it was great, great fun.

"Hey, everybody!" James said loudly, standing on the coffee table. His words were slurred and his body was swaying back and forth. Sirius didn't doubt that his mate had never had a drink before in his life. "Listen up, I'd just like to say, that, um, fucking hell, Peter? What did I want to say?"

Peter stumbled forward, looking very compromising. His hair was in disarray, his lips swollen and cherry-red, and the first two buttons of his shirt were undone. He didn't seem to care about his appearance, however, and James didn't even seem to notice. He pulled Peter onto the coffee table with him as the other boy began to speak. "Yeah, well, um, James wanted to say that Sirius Black is officially twelve now! And he's, um, he's really cool, and, um-"

"Yeah, yeah, he's really cool, and the best mate I could've ever asked for, and you all should make sure tonight is the best night ever for him because, well, yeah!"

Although the speech from two of his fellow Marauders was embarrassingly awful, Sirius felt the best he ever had in his life. He smiled widely, shouting out a, "Three-cheers for the Marauders!" before falling back into step with the lively party.

Within the next few hours, many girls had asked Sirius to dance. He'd obliged, but only for a few minutes. It was strange- Sirius thought the birds at this party were going to be his favorite part, but they just seemed a little annoying. They all looked the same, he realized, none of them looked like the person that he really, really wanted to be here right now.

Remus. Oh, Remus. How lovely it'd be to see his pretty little face and his perfect little mask be transformed into a crazy, raving party animal by the kiss of Firewhisky on his lips. How lovely it'd be to see him dancing, laughing- being louder than his quiet self. How lovely it'd be to see him healthy, with his skin greeted by it's warm color's touch, and his eyes awake and alive, and his strange scars would all be gone because-

Bloody fucking hell, Sirius cursed at himself. What was wrong with him? Why was he being such a sap? It was the alcohol, yes, the alcohol. It was doing funny things to his mind. Maybe he didn't have enough. Maybe he was in that awkward stage that Andromeda had told him about- where you're drunk, yes, and the things you say and do and think are all loopy and shit- but not drunk enough, because you're still going to _remember_ all the stupid things you say and do and think. With this realization, Sirius downed two more shots of the liquid, and instead of burning when it slid down his throat, it rather felt like his tongue was dancing with the devil. It was dangerous, but fun, too.

At nearly two a.m., the party still hadn't died down. If it wasn't for the expert silencing charms that a few talented Seventh Years cast on the walls of the Common Room, a professor would have for sure come storming in, asking what the ruckus was about. But the students had been left to their own accord, and Sirius didn't mind. He was definitely growing tired, and he hadn't seen James or Peter in quite some time… but then, a pretty blonde girl came up to him as he was sat on the couch, and she decided that the cushions weren't good enough for her. She sat on Sirius' lap, her already short skirt hiking up another inch or two. She wrapped her arms around the Heir's neck and leaned in to his ear, her bubblegum pink lips just touching the shell.

"How are you, handsome?" she asked.

Sirius had never dealt with girls in this way before- especially ones that were as old as this. She couldn't have been younger than fifteen, he thought. He was hesitant, and very awkward, but in wrapping his arms around her waist, he said, "Good."

"You know what would make you feel even better?" she moved her head, so that they were now forehead-to-forehead. Her gaze was directed pointedly at Sirius' lips, and he tried to keep his on hers too, but her shirt was very, very low-cut and it wasn't helping that she was leaning forward.

Now he wasn't an idiot, and he knew what the girl wanted, but he wasn't quite sure how forward he was supposed to be. Instead of risking it, the twelve-year-old replied, "What's that?"

"Me," she said, leaning in and touching her lips to Sirius'. Her eyes were closed, so Sirius followed suit. He wasn't sure how long the kiss was supposed to last, and just when the girl pulled away, she came back in for another one. Sirius sat still for a moment, before realizing what a pouf he looked like. He began trying to kiss the girl back, pressing on her sweet, candy-tasting lips with the same pressure she put on his. Having another pair of lips on yours was nothing like Sirius expected. He thought there must've been some mystical, magical element to it, considering everyone acted like it was Merlin's gift to the world. In reality, it just felt like one pair of slimy lips on another, and the position they were seated in wasn't helping Sirius feel very turned on, either.

The girl was digging her nails into his back, and it was extremely unpleasant. It reminded him of being punished back at home, and thinking of that made Kreacher's disgusting laugh sneak into his mind, and then he started thinking of this bird as Kreacher, and suddenly he wanted to vomit.

But, that wasn't an option, because people had taken notice of the pair now, and they were _whooping_ and cat-calling as Sirius and the mystery girl kissed. His hands were clasped around her waist, but he moved them down a little, feeling the soft skin of her thigh. Her skirt was made of some sort of faux leather, though, so the sweat from his nervous hands got a little stuck on it and he wanted to apologize, but knew that'd ruin the moment. So, he continued pressing his lips to the girls' and she muttered strange things in between kissed. Things like, "I love you, Merlin, I love you."

Sirius didn't know the girl's name, but he really wished she'd stop confessing her love for him. Love made him uncomfortable, especially when it was being displayed through snogging. The Heir had never seen affectionate couples at his home before, and the ones he could get his hands on were only in it for the getting-off part. He'd never even thought about true love as a real prospect, because in actuality, he'd never seen true love before.

Suddenly, the girl was inching her legs along Sirius' lap, so that she was no longer sitting along his knees, but rather dangerously close to his crotch. He had to admit, this felt good- but this, he could do himself. He found himself looking for something new and special, something that was going to make him pull away from this never-ending kiss and think, yeah, that was wicked. But so far, that wasn't happening. Sirius felt himself getting harder as the girl moved her bum along on his lap, and he wouldn't have minded if she hadn't stuck her awful tongue in his mouth. She poked it through his lips, and Merlin, it was the most disgusting thing Sirius had ever felt. It was cold, and the girl's saliva got on his lips, which tasted all weird- like fake strawberries- and stuck together because of some obtrusive strands of pink lip gloss.

Sirius stiffened when the girl did the strange thing with her tongue, and when she went to do it again, he turned his head and shoved her off his lap. She fell to the floor with a _thump,_ the rest of her miniskirt hiking up, so you could see the bottoms of her pink knickers. Students were laughing, and tears welled in the poor girl's eyes. They spilt over as she tried to compose herself, until both of her cheeks were wet with half-clear, half-black tears from her makeup. Sirius heart was beating impossibly fast, and his mouth was opening and closing over and over as he tried to think of something to say. Guilt was a hellish monster, clawing at Sirius' insides as he watched the girl run out of the Common Room, utterly humiliated.

He didn't know it was possible to feel this bad. He'd felt guilty before- for breaking rules or forgetting simple things, or just seeing his little brother in pain after a punishment, when he was the one who could've taken it easier. However, Sirius had never felt guilty for hurting another person before. He'd made his cousins cry if they were being bitchy, and he laughed when he pranked his fun Uncle Alphard. But Sirius had never made a truly innocent girl cry, and now he felt like the prick he was when he first showed up on the Hogwarts Express three months ago.

"Would you all fucking shut up!" Sirius yelled, scowling at a quarter of the student body. He was terrifying when he was angry- he'd inherited that from his father. The laughter in the room died down almost instantly, and when everyone was quiet, Sirius stormed out of the room, grabbing a bottle of half-drunk Ogden's on the way.

He wanted to look for the girl who he'd just mortified, but he didn't know anything about her. He saw a few seconds worth of her tear-stained face, and he was very familiar with her lips- that was for sure- but he didn't know her name, her year, her anything. So, he put the bottle to his lips and drank a few gulps of the powerful liquid. The alcohol he consumed earlier (about three glasses worth) had him convinced that he was completely pissed, but he realized that he felt almost completely sober. His vision was a little blurry, and his body was swaying to and fro, but he was thinking clearly, and that's the last thing he wanted.

So Sirius wandered around the castle, making absolutely no sound as his feet were socked and almost the entire castle was sound asleep at four in the morning. Sirius wasn't even sure if the nasty caretaker, Filch, was still creeping around the corridors, but it wasn't like he'd care much if he was.

Somehow, Sirius found himself wandering up to the hospital wing. He wasn't thinking, and his legs seemed to move on their own accord. He'd been here many times before to see his sick friend; enough times to know that Madam Pomfrey never locked the door, because distressed parents would often visit their children in the middle of the night, and she didn't want them waking the entire castle. Sirius took this small fact to his advantage and pushed open the intricate, mahogany entrance. It was charmed so that it wouldn't slam shut, so he didn't look back as he stumbled into the room. Remus had his own private area in the back, since he seemed to live in this ward of the castle, and muscle memory took over as the Heir headed to where his friend was staying.

"R-Remus," Sirius slurred, drawing out the "s" sound for a solid ten seconds. He set the now-empty bottle of Ogden's on the chair next to Remus' hospital bed, and made himself comfortable next to Remus. He seemed so small in this bed, for some reason. All curled into a sickly, scrawny ball of a boy. Tonight he looked worse than Sirius had ever seen him, and he wanted him to spread out, to not look so pitiful. "Remus," he said again, taking one of the smaller boy's arms in his and pulling it. Remus' curled up body turned onto its back, and the sick boy was lying face up. Much better, in Sirius' opinion. "Please, please, wake up."

Remus' eyes slowly opened at the sound of his friend's slurred words. It was either that, or the unbearable scent of the alcohol on his breath. "What the hell, Sirius?" Remus whispered. He was sore, and so, so, tired. These nights were the absolute worst, and he didn't have time for a drunken, stupid Sirius coming to tell him something pointless. His dad came home drunk once, and Remus remembered falling asleep that night to the sound of his scattered words telling him a story about an owl he saw when he was a "young boy." It was bloody awful.

"I need, uh, help," Sirius turned to face Remus, his head lolling on his neck. Remus couldn't see him that well, but it looked like his friend was about to cry by the way his big blue eyes glistened in the dimness. For Sirius' sake, Remus sat up, holding in the several whines about the pain in his tendons.

"What's the matter?"

"I did something bad."

Remus raised his eyebrows. Had the birthday party gone awry? "Define bad."

"I'm such a prick, Remus. Merlin, I'm such a prick."

"I know you are," Remus laughed, but quickly regretted it. Sirius wasn't in the mood to joke around, and the action jostled his weakened body. "But honestly, tell me what happened."

"The party, everything, everything was fine. This bird, she, she came up and sat on my lap. And then, she, she fucking, ugh, Remus! Her stupid lips were on mine, and they, they were, fucking, um, slimy. So slimy, sticky. Tasted like weird strawberries."

His speech was choppy, but Remus got the gist. "You kissed a girl? Why's that bad?"

"No, no, wait, stop a second. I, she, well, it was getting more into snogging than kissing. I thought it was fine. Then, then this saliva-y thing touched, my, my, and it was cold! It was cold! And, Merlin, it was nasty."

"Saliva-y thing?"

"Yeah, you know, her, her um, tongue! Yeah, she tried to stick her gross tongue up in my mouth, and it, it scared me. I was scared, so I pushed her."

"You pushed her?"

"Mmmm." Sirius' eyes were half-mast now, and he was falling asleep. "Right off my lap. She fell, Remus. _Thump._ I saw her knickers. They were pink, or like, reddish-"

"Sirius, Sirius, please, I don't want to know. So you were almost-snogging, and then you got scared, and then you pushed this girl off you?"

"Yeah, and, and then she started crying, and I felt like such a, such, and then they were laughing! Laughing!"

"Who?"

"Everybody! So I told them to fucking shut up, and I left. But I didn't know where, where she'd gone. And now I'm, I'm with you, Rem. I'm with you."

"How much did you drink tonight, Sirius?"

"I, I don't know. Like, a few, few glasses. Or something."

"You should go to the dormitory. Get some rest. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Look how tired you are, c'mon now."

"N-no, Remus. No. I don't wanna see the rest of the Gryffindors now. I don't wanna go over there. I'm staying."

Sirius was getting more and more comfortable next to Remus in the hospital bed, and Remus grew more and more alarmed. Sirius was already falling asleep, and with Remus' body aching like it was, he was in no condition to move the larger boy himself. "You know how horrible it's going to be in the morning, when Madam Pomfrey finds us?"

"Don't fucking care," Sirius grumbled, cuddling up to Remus' arm. Remus held in his pain, letting his friend squeeze the stiff arm, even though it felt like a thousand white-hot needles were stabbing at his bones. Merlin, Sirius was going to owe him.

"Alright, Sirius. Go to sleep now."

It seemed like only minutes later that Remus was dancing along the fine line between sleep and wake, when Sirius' warm, endearing lips pressed against his cheek. Remus could feel a blush burning into his skin, and he decided the best thing to do was stay calm and pretend to be asleep. He thought the sweet kiss was the end of whatever Sirius thought he was doing, but then he started mumbling in barely comprehensible words, "Snogging doesn't even feel good, Rem. It, it was weird. I didn't like it. Don't tell, don't, yeah. Lips are funny tasting. But, but you get it. You're a good, a good, yeah. Thanks."

With that, Sirius' light snoring filled the room again, and Remus was left lying still as a corpse next to him, his heart fluttering at his Sirius' words.


	6. VI

**Finally chapter six is up! I'm sorry it's been awhile, I major in writing at school and keeping up with those assignments and keeping up with this has become a hassle, but I won't give up:)** **Summer is in about a month, and then I'll be striving for weekly updates to get everything rolling along.**

 **Also, I just got an AO3 account and was wondering if I should upload this story there, too? What do you all think?**

 **I hate the way I write Madame Pomfrey and Dumbledore (still) so suggestions are welcome, and I'm pushing forward to winter holiday in this chapter because I feel like this piece is in a rut. Other than that, let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy! Have a great day xx**

VI.

" _Let us love winter. For it is the spring of genius."_

– _Pietro Arentino_

"Poppy, I don't think this is worth the-"

"Albus, I fully respect your position as Headmaster at this school, but you must listen! Sirius snuck in here at Merlin knows what hour and disturbed one of our most susceptible patients! I need an explanation."

"Susceptible? Poppy, Mr. Lupin is close to Mr. Black, who was probably worried about his close friend's well-being. No explanation necessary, I assure you that he meant no harm."

"Whether or not he _meant_ it-"

"I know that Remus is sharp enough to not let news of his condition slip, and therefore, the only thing Mr. Black saw last night was his dear companion in a weak state. That will not prompt him to jump to such extremities, meaning we all propose it's the flu and no person nor their reputations will be harmed."

Remus had woken up just a minute ago, keeping his breathing even and his eyes shut so as to listen to the heated discussion between Professor Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey. He hadn't felt this grateful for Dumbledore's presence since he showed up on his patio in late August of this year- an acceptance letter in one hand and a photograph of a thrashing tree with young foliage and endless branches in the other.

The eleven-year-old knew that he shouldn't have let Sirius stay in his hospital bed the previous night. He knew it was irresponsible and they were inevitably going to face _some_ sort of punishment for their misconduct. But Remus found himself realizing that forcing his mate to leave hadn't been an entirely fair option. Sirius was drunk, Remus defended himself. He could barely walk straight and he'd most definitely been upset. Who knows what he would've done had he been rejected?

Remus' cheek tingled, thinking about the small peck from twelve-year-old Sirius. That wouldn't have happened if he didn't let him stay last night, but Remus didn't know if that was something to be rejoicing or crying over.

He didn't have much time to think it over, for Sirius stirred next to him. He turned around, facing Remus, and slung an arm over his stomach. His cheek was pressed against Remus' shoulder, and his feet pushed their way under Remus' shins. The frailer boy found this terribly endearing, because although the rest of the Marauders were teaching the Heir how to be less of an arse-hat, he was still a very strong and independent person. His shows of affection were usually punches on the arm or claps on the back, and although he tried to hide his stiffness while being showed affection, Remus could always see it.

This, on the other hand, was quite different. When Sirius was asleep, his conscience couldn't force his family's influence onto the rest of his body, so it acted as it pleased. A small smile graced his thin lips, now knowing that Sirius Black was an affectionate, cuddle-starved boy at the core.

"Well I must say, this is most certainly not what I expected."

Remus tensed at Dumbledore's voice, although the statement was not said unkindly. His eyes remained closed as he pretended to be fast asleep.

"Remus is probably suffering," Madame Pomfrey said defensively. "He's fragile, even on the second night. His bones can't handle Sirius' weight."

"I'd assume that Mr. Lupin would be indicating his discomfort if he's truly suffering," Dumbledore said. Suddenly, his voice got closer. "That is, if he's truly asleep."

While nothing more was said on the matter, Remus' heart rate picked up. Dumbledore knew he was faking, but Madame Pomfrey didn't seem to realize, or seem to care. Her soft, bony hands slid between Sirius' head and Remus' shoulder, effectively lifting the weight off of him. She peeled the Heir's arm off of his stomach. And gently began shaking him awake.

"Sirius, Sirius Black, wake up."

Sirius groaned in response.

"I'm serious, er, just, Sirius, please, I instructed you to wake up!" Madame Pomfrey shook the sleeping boy's shoulders again, but this time Remus opened his eyes.

"Please leave him be," he said quietly, setting his small hands on top of the hospital warden's larger ones. Remus was going to continue, but realized Sirius would probably rather not have everyone know of his blunder with the girl from yesterday.

"Oh, sweet Remus," Madame Pomfrey smiled at her favorite patient, but didn't remove her hands from their placement on Sirius' shoulders.

"Please? He's one of my best mates." Remus unashamedly gave her puppy dog eyes, knitting his eyebrows together. He tried to look as small and frail as possible, hoping that she'd give in.

"He shouldn't be in here," the woman said defensively. "But I'll give him five more minutes. When he's gone, I have a healing potion for you and you'll be free to go by noon."

"Thank you so much, Madame Pomfrey," Remus beamed at her, albeit weaker than he normally could. She removed her hands from Sirius and turned to Dumbledore, who was eyeing the pair of Gryffindors with a sparkle in his bright blue eyes. After another moment, both adults left them alone, opting to continue their discussion in Madame Pomfrey's office. He was then left with five minutes.

"Sirius?" Remus poked at the bridge of the larger boy's nose with his index finger, because he knew how much the Heir hated it.

"Whuhduwahn," Sirius grumbled, trying to get away from Remus' prodding finger.

"Wake up, please."

Sirius groaned, turning away from Remus. He stopped poking at the Heir and instead opted for different tactic.

"Remus!" Sirius shrieked, his eyes flying open. Remus had mustered up all the strength his body could take, tearing the blankets off his mate. The boy was wearing black pants, the hem having ridden up to his knees. He was only wearing one sock, his green shirt was only buttoned twice, and the sleeves were undone and crinkled at his elbows. The cold air that fell over his unruly appearance made him shiver, and he rubbed at the goosebumps forming on his pale, unblemished skin.

"What the hell was that for?" he muttered unappreciatively.

"Go back to the dorm and clean yourself up, mate. Madame Pomfrey wasn't very happy when she saw you'd snuck in last night."

"Where is she?"

"I got us five minutes. But you have to leave, she'll really take the piss out of you if you're still here when she gets back."

"Ugh," Sirius sat up abruptly, apparently hoping for a dramatic exit. However, the Heir cried out in pain, clawing at his forehead and the black tresses that were stuck to it. He sat frozen in that position momentarily, before looking towards the other boy. "Last night," he began, memories seeping back into his muddled brain.

Remus was terrified for a second. He didn't know if Sirius remembered the tragedy with the girl, or the kiss on his cheek, or if he was conscious during any of the snuggling they did this morning. His face remained passive, encouraging his hungover friend to continue. "Hmm?"

Suddenly, Sirius' face split into a shit-eating grin. "Thank you," he said through his smiling teeth. He let out a bark of a laugh, before the grin disappeared and he looked like he was about to hurl. "I should, I should-"

"I understand."

Sirius smiled weakly, clutching his stomach with his left hand. With his right, he grabbed Remus' forearm, squeezing it for a few seconds before turning around and standing out of bed. It wasn't much, but it meant something, for Sirius never showed that kind of genuine, _sweet_ affection towards anyone. He watched his friend go, his normally graceful movements now scattered and choppy. He swore under his breath when his un-socked foot hit the tile, and again when he kicked the bottle of Ogden's that he'd left beside the bed last night. He picked it up and hid it under his shirt, buttoning it all the way. Without looking back, Sirius rushed to exit the hospital wing, presumably headed to empty the contents of his stomach and find something for his headache.

Remus laughed as Sirius' right shoulder collided with the door, yet another swear escaping his lips. He felt strangely sated as Madame Pomfrey reappeared, giving him a glass of his routine healing potion.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Winter holiday began tomorrow, and the tangible excitement of every Hogwarts student filled the corridors and classrooms. Remus, Peter, and Sirius met James after their Charms class in the courtyard. The sky was a muddled gray, the wind chilly and lapping against their cheeks mercilessly. The Marauders began walking to the Common Room, where they planned to lounge around until they needed to pack their things for their impending two weeks of freedom.

On their way to the main castle, however, the boys spotted a girl headed the same way; a girl who just so happened to be Lily Evans. Her auburn hair was held hostage under a gray beanie, but the ends were lifted by the wind and whipped around her face in a fiery show of color. She had a scarf on, matching her beanie, and a long black trench-style coat that fell to her knees, her school robes peeking out underneath.

"My, my, my, what a sight she is," James smirked at the beautiful girl in front of him, picking up the pace so that his friends would walk faster.

"Fancy Evans, do you?" Sirius' lips tugged into an identical form, and the two boys almost looked foreboding as they approached their target.

James chose not to answer, opting instead to reach his hand out and brush it against Lily's. "What's a girl like you walking up to the Common Rooms all alone?"

"A girl like me?" Lily scoffed, slapping James' hand away. "What exactly does that mean?"

The rejected boy gathered his thoughts before responding. "Well, you know, you're just so pretty, and, gentle, and I wouldn't want the cold to, break you, or something."

"You wouldn't want the cold to break me, or something?" Lily mimicked James' voice and laughed at the end of her sentence. "I assure you, Potter, I will survive."

"At least let me escort you to the Common Rooms, Evans."

"My dearest apologies," Lily mocked, "but I'm not heading that way. But if I was, I promise that I still wouldn't let you _escort_ me there."

That stung. James tried not to let it show. "Well, where are you headed?"

"That's not really your business."

"I'd like to make it my business." James again tried to take Lily's hand in his, thinking he was being suave. Twice seemed to push Lily though, for she took his fingers and twisted them backwards, making James let out a puff of air and a groan as he pulled his hand back.

"We don't get to do everything we'd like, Potter." Lily glared at him, before softening at the sight of the other Marauders. "Hello, boys."

"Afternoon, Lily." Remus smiled at her, and she returned the action.

"Hi," Peter said simply.

"Good to see you," Sirius nodded in her direction. The moment of peace only lasted so long, however, for she turned back to James and spat,

"As for you? You leave me alone."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

By the time the Marauders were back in their dorm, James and the boys had worked out their small tiff about them being friends with Lily and him being her mortal enemy. Peter helped James realize that they got close to the fiery girl, they could put in a good word for their mate, and maybe that'd help him win her over. James seemed content with that, and the boys moved past it. Now, each young Gryffindor sat at the foot of their four-poster, discussing winter holiday.

"We've got to do something fun before we leave," Peter said, picking at a hangnail on his finger.

"There aren't many options. We leave come morning and it's already, what? Eight o' clock?" said Remus, who was finished packing his things, unlike the other Marauders.

"We could sneak down to the dungeons," James suggested.

"We'll get caught," Peter huffed. "I normally wouldn't care, but I'd rather not start of the new year with Filch, you know?"

"Actually, we won't get caught." James had a strange glint in his eye, one that none of the others had seen before.

"What're you on about, James?" Sirius asked.

"My dad gave me something before I came here. He told me to keep it a secret, 'cause there's only about four in existence, but I can trust you lads."

"What is it?" the rest of the Marauders asked in unison.

Without hesitation, James reached under his bed and pulled out a piece of fabric. It was made of some silver material, and it looked like liquid mercury running through James' deft fingers. There was golden embroidery on it, and as the bespectacled boy held it up, the others realized it was a cloak.

"An invisibility cloak!" James' face was split into a huge smile, and he moved the cloak back and forth, showing everyone.

"An, an _invisibility_ cloak?" Peter's eyebrows had taken residence under the blonde locks falling over his forehead.

"Merlin, it's a real one, too. Judging by the pattern of the embroidery I think it's from the Peverell family line, yeah?" Sirius gave Remus a strange look after his admission of knowledge, and Remus followed up with a, "I spend a lot more time in the library than I probably should."

"No bloody clue, Rem, but look!" James draped the shimmery cloak over himself, and his body immediately disappeared into thin air. Sirius' face lit up, his smile complimenting his dashing features.

"Fucking hell, James!" he boomed, "Think of all the glorious pranks we'll be able to pull with this under our wings!"

The dormitory erupted in laughter, and all of the boys took turns trying on the cloak. They pulled small scares and things on each other, while planning out all of the mischief they'd get off scotch-free for now. Time was irrelevant as they talked about the cloak, and it wasn't until around midnight (when Peter couldn't stop yawning) that Sirius asked,

"What's the time, mates?"

And Remus replied, "Too late. We should all get some sleep before tomorrow."

James scoffed, saying they could sleep on the Hogwarts Express the next day, and spontaneously suggested they decorate their dorm instead.

"Decorate it? We're not birds, James," Peter frowned.

"No, no, no. We're not decorating with flowers and shite. We need a banner or summit."

"A banner?" Sirius asked. "That says what?"

"The Marauders, of course. We'll all sign it, hang it up, and then the room will officially be like, our man-cave, yeah? And we can have some sappy, overly-sentimental moment at the end of seventh year, yeah?"

"I've got to hand it you, that's one of the best ideas you've ever had that hasn't been destructive or harmful to any Slytherins in the process," Remus smiled and the others laughed.

"Exactly. Now, Peter? Conjure up a banner. Rem? You're in charge of paint. Sirius? Brushes. I'll make some work space."

So, creating their banner to solidify their "man-cave" was what the Marauders occupied themselves with for the next three or so hours. Remus, who without a doubt possessed the best handwriting, wrote, 'THE MARAUDERS' CAVE' in red paint across the large bit of parchment. Then Sirius outlined the letters in black, Peter underlined them, and James put a permanent sticking charm on the words. That itself took much longer than necessary, for Remus wasn't satisfied with most of his letters the first time he wrote them, and re-starts were commonplace. In time, each boy signed his name below the large lettering, and they helped each other cast a sticking charm to the back of their dormitory door where the banner would hang.

"S'perfect," Peter beamed at their new decor, as did the other three. However, a large yawn from James made them all realize how late (early, actually) it was getting, and they decided to finally get some sleep. After brushing their teeth and changing into their pajamas, each Marauder crawled under the red blankets of their four posters and fell asleep with relative ease.

Sirius, however, couldn't seem to keep his eyes closed. There was a strange feeling blossoming in his chest; after James' reveal of his invisibility cloak, and the lads' creation of their banner, Sirius felt oddly… _attached._ And not in the way he felt with his parents, where he felt like he was chained to them and their rules and their way of life. He felt attached in a Regulus way- where he'd do anything to help his mates not get hurt, where he wanted to tell them everything, where he wanted to see them succeed. Sirius' heart felt heavy as he thought of these boys like he did his own brother, his own blood. It felt like betrayal, but at the same time, Sirius didn't want to _not_ feel it. And while all of these feelings bubbled up in his heart, his stomach lurked with trepidation that Sirius hadn't felt since he was sent off to school on the first of September. He was terrified of seeing his parents again, for more than one reason.

There was no doubt in his mind that his bitches for cousins were going to snitch on him for associating with two half-bloods and a blood-traitor. On top of that, Sirius was having a great deal of trouble remembering his parent's rules verbatim, and he knew they wouldn't like that. Plus, his hair was growing much too long for their liking, and his only hope for remembering how to fasten his dress robes properly was muscle memory.

In other words, going back home was going to be complete shite, and Sirius couldn't find it in him to fall asleep.

So, because he always seemed not to mind when Sirius woke him up, the Heir climbed out of bed and pulled open the curtain of Remus'.

"Rem?" he asked, poking at his friend.

"Hey, Sirius." Remus moved to the other side of the bed, pulling back the covers to give Sirius room. It didn't look or sound as if he was even asleep.

Sirius didn't say anything as he crawled into the bed. He didn't close the curtain behind him, so moonlight still illuminated the two Gryffindors' faces as they stared at the ceiling.

"Scared about going home?" Remus said quietly, and Sirius' head snapped to look at the other boy. How could he always read his mind like that?

"How'd you know?" Sirius asked.

"I feel the same way, mate."

"You're scared? Is there something you haven't-"

"No, I'm not scared in the same way you are. You like being a Marauder, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"And your parents aren't going to like that?"

"Well, well I wasn't going to tell them much. Anything, more like. But I stopped caring about what Bella and Cissy see when it comes to all of us, and they're the ones who're no doubt planning to tell."

"And when they do?"

Sirius didn't know what to say. He knew that Kreacher (who he hadn't thought about in months, and the thought of the vile little mongrel made him cringe) was going to have a field day on his back, and his mother was going to screech until the sky turned purple. However, Sirius had come to realize over the past few months that the other boys weren't treated like that at home. He'd listen to stories of James and his father brewing potions together, or Peter and his mum watching "movies"- some Muggle thing. Remus told them about shopping for robes with his parents, and all the while Sirius had kept quiet on the matter because the Marauders understood. But they never got the whole picture, with the punishment and the like; they got more of the screaming and rules and mandatory, stuffy parties side of his life.

Should Sirius tell them everything? Remus, at the least? Or was he not supposed to? Would that be betrayal of his family, his own blood? He was torn, and unnerved that Remus was staring at him still, waiting for an answer to his question.

Sirius settled on the non-committal response, "I don't know."

"You're lying." Fuck. Sirius should've known. It wasn't like Remus was being accusing- he sounded rather disappointed- but the Heir was a bundle of nerves and things weren't coming out right. So what escaped his lips was a vehement,

"Fuck off."

"I'm not trying to push you, Sirius. I'm just saying… I think more goes on at home then you let on."

"Well you're wrong."

"Alright. Then why are you scared?"

"Why are you scared, huh?" Sirius couldn't take being questioned anymore. Normally he could- normally he liked it, actually. It made him feel cared about. But now he wanted to give his mate a taste of his own medicine.

"I don't want to leave you all. I'm going to miss the Marauders and I don't want things to be different when we come back in a month."

Sirius was looking at Remus, and he was listening to his words, but more importantly- he was looking at his scars. Thin white lines were crisscrossed on the sides of the boy's face, and Sirius could see the thicker, angrier looking ones up his sweater sleeve. He thought about how Remus went to the hospital wing all the time, and how Madame Pomfrey treated him like he was Merlin's reincarnation. He had his own private bed, which was strange. He was covered in scars and cringed when someone held him too tight, like yesterday. Things were falling into place, and Sirius felt overwhelmed. Would Remus really understand? Has he been lying? Do his parents punish him, too?

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

"You are! You have a secret."

Remus didn't respond for a moment. Then, in a quiet voice that juxtaposed Sirius' rising one, he said, "I do have a secret, Sirius. But I know you have one too."

Sirius was done. He felt like he was going to implode from all of these foreign feelings crowding his thoughts. He crawled out of Remus' bed, fixing the crimson cover before closing the curtain, whispering a goodnight, and rushing back to his own fixture in the room. The Heir didn't know what he wanted from that conversation, and he didn't know if he liked what happened or not. Either way, the sound of Remus' shy, almost _broken_ voice kept Sirius wide awake. His eyes didn't close until the sun started to just crawl over the horizon, the words he kept repeating a ghost on his lips.

 _"I do have a secret, Sirius. But I know you have one too."_


	7. VII

**Chapter seven, chapter seven, chapter seven, hooooot hooooooot! I've said this before, but just in case, this story is extremely Sirius-centric. When school is in session, obviously I focus on all the boys and their relationship. But on holidays, things are going to surround the Blacks and later on, Sirius' relationships (wink, wink).**

 **I'm happy to say that SUMMER IS HERE! I'll be updating more often than just once a month, so I hope you all are excited for more of this story. Any feedback you give me is, of course, appreciated. I take everything to heart- you guys and this story mean a lot to me!**

 **So I hope you enjoy:) and have a lovely day xx**

VII.

" _The cure for boredom is curiosity. There is no cure for curiosity."_

–Dorothy Parker

Kreacher had been waiting for Sirius at King's Cross, vile as ever. The Heir had to bid farewell to his three best mates on the train, so the little mongrel wouldn't see and punish him later. Sirius returned to 12 Grimmauld Place the night of December tenth, not realizing what a dismal experience he was truly in for. The moment the sole of his too-tight dress shoe clicked against the wood floor of the foyer, his mother's screeching pierced his ears.

"IS HE HOME?"

"Yes, Madame," Kreacher croaked, a smug smile on his face. Sirius' body, however, seized up at the sound, and he couldn't walk any further into the house. They knew something; he could feel it. His mother, Kreacher, and surely his father and even Regulus had a clue. What they knew and what they didn't was blurred for the Heir, but he knew he wasn't walking into anything good.

It was sickening, really. His own home playing the devil's advocate.

"Bring him here, then," Walburga called.

Kreacher's bony fingers grabbed Sirius' limp hand and gave it a harsh tug. The Heir, however, didn't make a move. He stood frozen next to a rather unattractive portrait of his great-great-grandfather, Phineas Nigellus.

"Better move, Master Sirius. Madame Walburga is most unpleased with you." Kreacher's smirk had turned into a full-blown grin, sickly-tinted teeth shining in the candlelight of the foyer.

"W-why?" the Heir dared to ask. He did, however, curse himself for stuttering. He hated it more than anything, that habit, and he knew that he best not let it slip in front of his mother.

"He asks why you wish to see him, Madame Walburga," Kreacher called, and Sirius' eyes widened to impossible proportions. He bent down in an attempt to strangle the disgusting house elf, but Kreacher was too quick, despite his old age. He ducked away from Sirius' murderous hands just as the nearly six-foot-tall shadow of a woman appeared in front of the twelve-year-old.

"He asks why, does he?" Walburga was a complicated person. Her hair was an inky, midnight black color that was currently twisted into a French knot at the back of her head. Her skin was the same as Sirius', pale and blemish free- a trademark of the Black family, really. But unlike Sirius, Walburga had eyes the color of steel and almost non-existent pupils; if the Heir stared into them for too long, he felt as if his soul was being sucked out. Unsurprisingly, he never looked into them very often, and opted to stare between his mother's eyes when looking at her.

"Yes, mother," Sirius said quietly. He was staring at his mother's feet, wishing she wouldn't wear such tall heels all the time. Her staggering height made him nervous beyond compare.

"Since when do I allow you to question my motives? To speak to the floor? To talk so quietly that I can't even make out your words?"

"Since never, mother," Sirius replied in the same manner, his mind a blank slate. Since when did he wish for a death sentence, he thought bitterly.

A hand that felt like ice grabbed onto Sirius', and this time, the harsh tug that followed pulled the young boy out of his stupor and he began walking in step with his mother. They were both silent, the only sounds in the house being that of their feet against the carpet and Kreacher's fast, excited breathing.

The pair arrived in the kitchen, one of the only rooms in the house that had tiling instead of carpeting. Sirius removed his shoes, not completely forgetting his family's rules. It was customary for him to be barefoot during his punishments, for his feet would grow sorer over time and the floor was more chillingly cold without socks and shoes in the way.

"Stand, middle of the floor," Walburga spat, and Sirius complied without a word. "Now, I want you to say 'yes, mother,' properly."

"Yes, mother," Sirius said. His voice was clear and loud, and he made it slightly deeper than it was naturally to appease his mother further.

"Alright. Now say it louder than that."

Sirius was confused, but repeated the two words slightly louder than before.

"Now yell it."

Sirius did so.

"Now scream it at the top of your lungs."

Sirius hesitated momentarily, earning him a death glare from his mother, who was still standing straight and stiff about a foot in front of him. He did, however, breathe in deeply, screaming the words at the top of his lungs,

"YES, MOTHER!"

Walburga smiled, not in pride of her eldest son, but instead in a sadistic, joyous sort of way.

"Again."

"YES, MOTHER!" Sirius screamed for a second time. For the first time in a long time, Sirius didn't know where his mother was going with his punishment.

"Now, Sirius. I want you to stand here and scream those two words until I return and tell you otherwise. Do you understand?"

Sirius debated speaking his response, but some horribly dark part of him knew what his mother wanted. He screamed, "YES, MOTHER!"

She smirked in response. "Very well. Continue."

Sirius watched the train of his mother's dress dance behind her body before slipping past the door and around the corner. He breathed in and shouted once more, his throat burning from abusing it four times now. However, the Heir knew that number would be growing indefinitely, and he couldn't help the tears that stung the back of his eyes as he filled his lungs and screamed the two words again.

Five, six, seven, eight times Sirius screamed with all the power he could muster. His throat was burning and his voice cracked on the ninth time, making his screams higher pitched and a tenfold more painful. The Heir counted each scream, and on the thirteenth time, his mother came back into the room.

This time, she was wearing a thick, black dress that hung off her tall, lean frame. It brushed against the tiles of the kitchen as she walked towards Sirius with loud _click clacks_ of her heels.

"Faring well, Sirius?" She asked, smiling darkly. Her eyes filled with a sick malice that made every inch of the woman's skin tingle with excitement.

The twelve-year-old knew what he had to do. He blinked a few times, clearing his stormy gray eyes of the salty tears that were pooling there, and answered,

"YES, MOTHER!"

"Marvelous. Then I suspect you're ready for your next task?" Walburga's eyebrows were raised in questioning.

"YES, MOTHER!" Sirius screamed, not hesitating for a moment. However, what he thought was going to reduce his pain turned out to be a grave mistake. It felt as if flames from the depths of Hell themselves were licking at his throat, and his mother's unforgiving claws were tearing off strips of fleshy-pink, saliva-covered skin in long strands of fettuccini. The Heir considered himself to be strong, and he would have laughed at the prospect of crying in front of his mother before September. But he hadn't dealt with this grueling of treatment in too long, and Sirius couldn't help the fat tears that rolled down his red cheeks and pooled at the corners of his wobbling lips.

"Aw, baby Sirius is crying? Is baby Sirius sorry for the rules he's broken?"

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut and screamed again, his voice sounding completely unlike his own. It was akin to shattered glass- sound dropping and lifting throughout the two words and the gaps being filled with wheeze-like inward breaths. He sounded utterly broken, and Walburga's condescending pout turned into a smile again. Sirius' skin crawled.

"Well enough. You'll now repeat the other words you've spoken incorrectly thirteen times in the same manner. Kreacher will be counting."

The vile excuse for a house elf came into the room then, his normally miserable-looking face alight with humor. Sirius, however, couldn't muster a glare at him. He was too distracted by what his mother said.

"Wh-" but Sirius never got to finish, because he was backhanded by his mother, her obnoxiously large wedding ring cutting into his cheek. Warm droplets of blood rolled downward, but the Heir couldn't even differentiate between those and his now-profuse tears.

"Don't talk back to me, young man. You heard what I said."

Sirius remained silent, though, despite his mother's unspoken command to begin the next part of his punishment. He cursed himself for not remembering what he was supposed to scream.

Jerking him from his reverie was another sharp slap to the face, causing Sirius to wince and stumble backwards.

"Useless child," Walburga spat, all the while laughing in disgust at her eldest son. "You will say, 'since never, mother' _fourteen_ times and then you will go to your room immediately following. Kreacher will deliver your dinner there at eight o'clock. Your father's in for a late night, and he requested to be present when we discuss your filthy sorting and the despicable sort of people you've been consorting with for the past four months undenounced to us. You're a disgrace, Sirius. A filthy disgrace." The retched woman paused to let her words sink in. "While you've been off disappointing us, dear Regulus has been an angel. The boy should've been born first, I swear to Merlin. If I wasn't under such a request from your father you'd be locked away like the embarrassment that you are for the rest of time. Now, don't make your presence known in this house for the rest of the night, and begin!"

Sirius' tears weren't from hurt, pain, or sorrow any longer. They were rooted in hatred and frustration, because in that moment, Sirius wanted to strangle his mother's sick, smug face. His fists were balled- nails creating half-moons in his palms that were sure to start bleeding- but kept at his sides. Sirius thought of James and Remus and Peter, Dumbledore, Madame Pomfrey, Hogwarts. He thought of where he was now and how terribly he missed where he was.

Suddenly, Sirius feels like he's aged a hundred years rather than just one.

Nevertheless, the Heir took in a shaky breath and let out quite a pitiful, "SINCE NEVER, MOTHER!"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Kreacher had delivered Sirius' dinner an hour ago, but the Heir hadn't taken a bite. His throat was raw, and each time he swallowed his saliva, it tasted like blood- bitter and metallic. Kreacher removed the two gashes in his cheek from his mother's ring, but it still stung and Sirius tried to keep a straight face to lessen the pain. Nonetheless, he was starving. But eating would have to be a hurdle he'd jump tomorrow, when he was forced to eat breakfast with the family.

Right now, Sirius wanted more than anything to see his little brother. He didn't know where he was when he'd returned home, but he'd _surely_ heard his older brother's punishment. Regulus always checked on him when he was finally sent back to his room…

Sirius dismissed his negative thoughts about his brother's fate. Mother had said how good the kid had been since he'd left, yeah?

Suddenly, Sirius heard his name being bellowed in a voice that could only be his father's. He went rigid momentarily, before reminding himself to breathe. His parents were starkly different when it came to punishment; Walburga was more of a sadistic soul, and she enjoyed the anguish and vulnerability in someone's eyes as she inflicted pain on them. Orion, however, was stricter. He expected (demanded, rather) strength from everyone he surrounded himself with, especially his eldest son. He wanted to push Sirius past his breaking point but he didn't want to hear the screams or see the tears. The Heir didn't know if he preferred feeling like an abused dog or marionette, but he realized he'd get a lovely dichotomy to choose from after he endured whatever was going to happen downstairs.

Sirius kicked his plate of now-cold food aside, walking out of his bedroom and closing the door like he was meant to. His father called his name again, the deep tones wrapping around Sirius' insides, making them clench with anxiety. He followed the menacing voice to his father's office, where Orion sat behind his desk with his hands clasped overtop it.

"Sirius," Orion said again, his voice at regular volume.

"Sir," Sirius nodded, but cringed at the pain in his throat and the airy quality of his voice. He prayed to Merlin that he wasn't in for an interrogation about earlier's punishment.

"Your mother informed me of what happened earlier."

Sirius inwardly sighed with relief, deciding not to say anything. He opted to take a seat opposite his father instead.

"Breaking house rules is not my concern today, son. Cygnus and Druella came to me today with Bellatrix and Narcissa, who had some interesting news."

"Sir?" Sirius kept his wince discreet, but knew he had to say something that furthered his father or he'd grow angry.

"Filth, son. They say you've been consorting with filth. The blood-traiting likes of the Potters, some no-name Pettigrew family, and a half-blood kind from the Lupins. Is this true?"

Sirius saw no point in lying. "Yes, sir."

"They share a dormitory with you, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt in saying that you're only consorting with such trash because you were sorted into such a garbage house. Which, I'd like to ask, do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Sirius was staring into his father's eyes, recognizing their dominant glare and emotionless depth, but for the first time, seeing the twinkle of disgust and hatred that normally only shone in his mother's eyes. It was disheartening, and Sirius didn't know what else to say except, "No, sir."

"Very well. If you wish to continue your schooling at Hogwarts there are some rules that you must strictly abide to."

Sirius' eyes widened. _If_ he wished to continue at Hogwarts?

"If these rules are broken, sir?" Sirius raised his eyebrows in question, his mind going straight to a dismal place that he hated himself for having.

Orion's gaze darkened. "Then we shall transfer you to Durmstrang, immediately. Would you like me to disclose said rules to you?"

"Yes, sir." Sirius' heart picked up its pace. This was a threat, or at least, his father's way of threatening him. It was aggressive but still indirect, and the dread building up to what Orion was going to say made sweat bead at Sirius' hairline- a sure giveaway to his father that he was a nervous wreck. Sirius cursed himself for giving his father the upper hand.

"Alright. First, you will associate yourself with your cousins and other respectable walks of life. Consequently, I expect you to sit with Slytherin House at all evening meals."

"Yes, sir." Sirius kept a straight face, even though he was utterly terrified. He hadn't exactly been nice to the snakes in his short time at Hogwarts, and he didn't want to know what they'd say or do to him should he be forced onto their territory. On the other hand, he was the Heir to the Noble and Moste Ancient House of Black, was he not? He could demand respect, compliance, dem-

Shit, he sounded like the tight-arse that he'd learnt better of from his best mates.

"I also expect the childish pranks I've been hearing about to cease, permanently."

"Yes, sir." He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't going to let his father see his devastation. He was going to get kicked out of the Marauders if he couldn't pull any more pranks, said best mates probably aren't going to want anything to do with him.

"Finally, I've arranged for you to have romantic relations with Elizabeth Burke."

Sirius choked on the saliva he was struggling to swallow, and the sandpaper-y feeling in his throat returned, bringing salty tears to the back of his eyes. His father chose to act like nothing was wrong, and continued his deluded speech.

"She's a First-Year from a respectable pure-blood line, who has whole-heartedly agreed to remain your girlfriend indefinitely. You have no place or power to break ties with the girl, understood?"

There was a pregnant pause before, "Yes, sir."

"I don't want you to feel so miserable, son. Monogamy is foolish, as you know of Katalina, Michanta, and Pollinia."

Sirius tried to ignore the mention of his father's mistresses. They were rude tramps who came around more than the Heir would like to think about.

"You can consort with as many females as you'd like," Orion clarified. "But you will publically associate yourself with Miss Burke."

"Yes, sir."

"Now, I have a grand day tomorrow. Cygnus is coming over to discuss some business matters with me, and he's bringing your cousins along. You'll behave at your best, I presume?"

"Yes, sir." Sirius stood, recognizing that the conversation (if it even was that- Sirius was sick of saying those same two stupid words) was ending.

"Very well. And I presume you know where to meet Kreacher before you proceed to your room?"

"Yes, sir," Sirius couldn't help the sag in his shoulders. He didn't know if he could handle another punishment, or when exactly he was going to break completely.

"Excellent. Five lashes for questioning me. Ten lashes for acting up in school. Ten lashes for consorting publically with filth. Don't forget to count."

Sirius left his father's office, heading towards the kitchen to meet the giddy, shit-eating grin of his family's house elf. He unbuttoned his shirt and knelt on the ground, not getting a warning before a sharp _smack_ rang out among the house, his skin tearing open.

"One," he whispered shakily.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Sirius was sure that he'd never felt this beaten down in his life. Kreacher used whatever spells he had up his sleeve (or lack thereof) to seal and hide the wounds on his back, but the pain still resonated through his small body with a vengeance. The Heir had all but crawled to his room, the clock in the hallway reading what he presumed was eleven o'clock. He wouldn't be surprised if he was wrong- his vision was blurry, the hallway was dark, and he really didn't give two shits about the time at all.

Just as Sirius began dozing off, however, there were three feeble knocks on the door that could only belong to one person.

Regulus slipped into Sirius' bedroom and closed the door behind him, making his way over to the bed without a word. He was clad in a matching set of silk pajamas, the emerald green color complimenting his eyes of the same hue. The nine-year-old stared at his older brother for longer than what could be deemed normal, before uttering,

"You're the worst, Sirius."

And that, that was the last straw. Sirius would take the flaming pain in his raw throat, the clawing feeling that nagged at his mutilated back, he'd take it all in relative silence. But this was something that the Heir could not, _would_ not, let slide by. His heart was beating so slowly that it made his chest feel like it'd been dropped down the stairs, and he was sure he was going to have a heart attack. His stormy blue eyes filled with tears that he wasn't afraid to let roll down his cheeks. Why had he been crying so much, lately? He'd have to re-learn how to keep them at bay. Sirius, nonetheless, took in a shaky breath.

"What?"

"I hate you, brother." Regulus said it with such finality. It was dark in the room, but Sirius could still see his jade-colored eyes looking at him. They were blank, seemingly empty, and Sirius thanked Merlin that they didn't hold a fraction of the malice that his parents' eyes held.

"Why are you saying this?" Sirius was still crying, and he had to sit up to stop from choking on his own snot and salty tears.

"Because you're the worst, Sirius!" Regulus recognized his outburst and lowered his voice before continuing, making sure his parents wouldn't come to see what they were up to. "You put yourself into Gryffindor, you idiot!"

"You can't put yourself in a house, you're sorted."

"Well I've never seen mother so angry, I was terrified! And-and you've befriended all these Mudbloods-"

"Don't say that, Reg."

"-and, and blood traitors, making all this trouble for us, and not _once_ did you try to talk to me, brother. Not once!"

Sirius' tears had stopped by now, but he was still sniffling. The betrayal and hurt that he felt before were now feelings of guilt and self-deprecation, because he _was_ the worst, wasn't he? He'd left his little brother in the shadows while he was having a grand old time with the Marauders, and he hadn't even thought about how his actions were going to impact his Reg.

"I'm sorry, Reg, Merlin. I'm so, so sorry."

Regulus stayed silent.

"You don't understand, Hogwarts just kind of, sweeps you up and takes you away and, and I really've never realized how different life is outside the family, brother. You'll see one day. I'll show you. We love mother and father, but they're such tight-arses." Sirius laughed, thinking of James telling him off for acting the way he did in the beginning. "Life outside is so free. You can do whatever you want."

"Life outside is full of filth, brother."

"That's what they tell you, Reg. But you've got to give it a chance. It's so fun- when's the last time you've had real fun?"

"Mother took me to Diagon Alley a few days ago. She bought me a new cloak."

"That's not fun. Fun is hexing all the professors that you don't like and making the whole class laugh. And turning annoying bloke's food into live animals that scurry over the dining table. And jinxing people in the courtyard so that their hair changes colors, or they grow antlers, or stuff."

"You did all that?" Despite what he'd been trying to convince himself, Regulus couldn't help his curiosity and wonderment at what his big brother had been up to.

"Yeah, I did. But not alone. See, the filth I've been consorting with are actually some of the coolest lads I've ever met."

"No, no Sirius. They aren't."

"They are, though! I can't wait until you're eleven. You could maybe get sorted into Gryffindor and I could make you an honorary Marauder."

"Marauder?"

"That's what we call ourselves, me and my three best mates. We pull the best pranks at school and people really like us. Peter's short, he's like, as tall as you. He's shy like you too, but he's working on it. I think you'd like him a lot. He's mad helpful, and he works harder to keep up with us then I've ever seen anyone work."

"Peter who?"

"Doesn't matter, brother. And then there's James, I'm closest to him. He's my height, and he has crazy hair that's black like mine. He's a real leader, and we always come up with our mental plans together. He's a super talented wizard, too. And funny as hell."

"James, got it."

"But then there's Remus, who kind of throws me through a loop, to be honest." Sirius laughs as he pictures his mate. "He's a genius, really. He reads all these books and practically lives in the library. He's the one who makes James and I's ideas achievable, 'cause he's like, the sneakiest and most subtle one of us lads. He's also this little thing, taller than Peter but just about as skinny as you, but he feels so, so _present_ whenever he's in a room. You can't miss him."

"Remus, okay. And you four call yourselves the Marauders?"

"Yeah, we do. And I can't wait until you're old enough, Reg. You could be a Marauder, too."

The nine-year-old crawled onto his brother's lap, and Sirius wrapped his arms around him before laying down- a habit that both of the Black brothers had missed dearly. It was silent for a while, before Regulus spoke in a small, scared voice,

"I can't be sorted into Gryffindor."

"The Sorting Hat decides everything. But do you only not want to be there because of mother and father?"

"Yes, brother. You should consider yourself lucky that you didn't endure their wrath first-hand."

Sirius' arms tightened around his brother's little frame. He felt like an arse.

"I'm so sorry, Reg. I take it the Howler they sent was just a portion of everything?"

"A tablespoon."

"I'm so sorry."

"S'fine, brother. I just can't be sorted there."

"But if we're both Gryffindors, we can endure the wrath together."

"No, just, no."

"Alright, but I've got time to change your mind."

Regulus laughed. "You haven't got as much power over me as you think you do."

"But you've got the world over my head, Reg. Just the thought of you hating me sends me over the edge."

The room was again quiet, the brothers' breathing being the only sounds in the air.

"Brother?" Regulus began tentatively.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry, as well. You're not the worst. I don't hate you."

"Thank you, Reg."

The hallway clock chimed in a dismally deep tone, signaling the fall of midnight. The Black brothers lay in Sirius' bed, already half-asleep, an unsaid but clearly understood "I love you" hanging over them.


	8. VIII

**Yooooo Chapter VIII is here! It's short, but the next chap has a New Year's party and a lot more Marauders action, so it'll be much longer. This is a bit of filler I guess. Still, hope you enjoy! You all know the drill- favorites, follows, and reviews are so appreciated!**

 **Hope everyone's summer is going great. I'm going camping this weekend, so that's exciting :D**

 **See you all v soon xx**

VII.

" _A closed mind is a dying mind."_

-Edna Ferber

Winter was in full swing amongst the streets of London. A thick layer of snow covered any and everything, a cold chill blowing the younger flakes about in a white flurry. Adults were walking hurriedly along the sidewalks, faces down to avoid the harsh wind, while their children picked snowball fights and built snowmen. Most houses were dawned in garlands of red and green, infused with the too-sweet smell of sugar cookies, with a Christmas tree in the living room. However, this was not the case at 12 Grimmauld Place.

Sirius had been getting along since his torturous return on the tenth of December. He'd been steadily ignored on some days, whilst others he just dealt with his parents barking orders at him and he fared well. Today was going to be harder to swallow, though, because his family was throwing their annual Christmas holiday party. The house was sure to be alight with gossip about the Moste Noble and Ancient House of Black's disgraced Heir. Joy.

"Get down here, Sirius!" His father's voice echoed through the hallway.

"Coming, sir!" Sirius yelled back, not missing a beat. He finished adjusting his dress robes, smitten with himself for discovering a Silkening Charm, making them a tenfold less itchy and uncomfortable. His black hair fell around his face, making his skin appear just as pale and translucent as his family liked it. He didn't look disgraceful as he descended the staircase- no, Sirius looked quite regal. However, no amount of Galleons could cover up his Gryffindor status, and consequently, his family's disgust.

"Stand by the door, son. Welcome our guests as they arrive. I expect complete civility from you, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"And make your presence sparse."

"Yes, sir."

With that, the Heir left his father in the living area. He saw Regulus and his mother in the kitchen, but didn't bother looking into what they were doing, for a second of hurried raps on the door distracted him. Sirius, having many years' experience with greeting at the door, knew the obnoxious knocking came from Abraxas Malfoy. He forced a smile anyways, pulling the door open.

"Evening, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. Lucius." Sirius nodded at the Slytherin Fifth Year. "Do come in."

Lucius eyed Sirius with distaste but walked into the house with his chin held high. Abraxas and his wife, Nina, followed without so much as acknowledging the Heir's presence.

Following the Malfoys was the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson, as well as the Bulstrodes, who brought along their thick-headed man of a daughter, Mildred. The Greengrass and Lestrange clans showed up, as well, everyone completely ignoring Sirius' greetings. However, the Carrow siblings, Alecto and Amycus, scowled lovingly at the twelve-year-old before stepping on the toes of his already too-tight dress shoes. That counted as acknowledgement, yeah?

After standing in the foyer for approximately thirty minutes, all the guests had shown except for four. Sirius wished he could say with confidence that he was prepared for their arrival; in truth, his heart was beating quicker than normal and his brain was swimming with a myriad of horrible scenarios that could occur. He hadn't spoken to his cousins in quite some time, especially not since they'd snitched on his choice of best mates. Not only that, but his Aunt Druella and Uncle Cygnus had way more influence with his parents than the other adults at the party, and one little mistake could put him in some deep shit for the future.

Sirius wallowed in his anxiety for another ten or so minutes, before three knocks were issued on the door. A few seconds passed between each, letting dread well in Sirius' heart as he gathered the courage to turn the doorknob.

When he did, finally, he was graced with the two faces of his cousins, Bella and Cissy. Bella had dark features and red-painted lips that were pulled into a snarl. Cissy, on the other hand, had platinum blonde hair and an expected blank, stupid look on her face.

"Evening," Sirius said. He looked up at his Aunt and Uncle, both of whom were analyzing him intently. "Do come in."

Druella and Cygnus walked towards the dining area, where a good portion of the party was taking place. Sirius' cousins, however, had different plans. They stepped in, Bella standing toe-to-toe with the Heir while Cissy closed the door and kept an eye on the rest of the adults in the conjoining rooms of the house.

"How's life, Baby Sirius?" Bella asked, and _fucking hell,_ Sirius absolutely hated when his cousin called him that. It's what his mother called him when he cried.

"Don't call me that."

"Why not? Is Baby Sirius going to cry?"

Was she reading his mind or something? Sirius cringed at the thought. He whispered vehemently back at Bella, "Not a chance in hell."

"Don't be so disagreeable, cousin. I only wanted to ask how Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion handled the news we delivered. I made sure they got wind of everything at the _very_ beginning of holiday."

"You mental bitch," Sirius showed Bella out of his face and headed towards the kitchen before he did something he'd regret. There'd be no way he'd escape punishment if Bella went crying to his parents that he'd hurt her.

"Touchy subject?" Bella laughed behind him, and Sirius flipped her off before disappearing around the corner. He slipped through the gaggles of men and women who were discussing Merlin knows what, finding himself creeping upstairs. He tiptoed through the library (although no one was there- it was his paranoia, he guessed) until he was stood on 12 Grimmauld Place's only balcony. It overlooked London's busy streets and the constantly grey sky, and it was Sirius' favorite place to escape when his family threw parties like these.

He conjured up a chair with a simple trick he'd learnt from watching McGonagall, and sat cross-legged on the cushion. With deft fingers he loosed his tie and the buttons of his dress robes, letting the breeze cool off his clammy skin. Moments passed as the Heir watched the street below. A mother was holding her baby to her bosom while she walked, and two children were building a snowmen together next door. A group of men, drunk off their arses, were laughing about something as they stumbled down the sidewalk. Holiday traffic was backed up, but the honking and occasional road rage didn't bother the twelve-year-old.

Instead, Sirius was preoccupied with the longing feeling in his chest. It felt like something was pulling his insides downwards, elongating his heartbeat. A cold, empty sadness felt like it was swallowing him whole. Was he ever going to be happy again? Has he ever been happy before? Why was breathing suddenly so hard? Why was everything going so blurry?

The confusion and foreign feeling overtook Sirius in his entirety, and everything went black.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

 _Peckpeckpeckpeck._

Sirius felt an incessant tapping on his right cheek. His eyelids, however, felt too heavy to open to investigate the culprit.

 _Peckpeckpeckpeck._

Merlin, he thought, mustering up the energy to turn his face away from whatever was bothering him.

 _Peckpeckpeckpeck._

"What the hell?" Sirius growled, lifting his head and forcing his tired eyes open. He found himself face to face with what was quite possibly the ugliest owl in existence, and he jumped backward. The creature tilted its head and stared at the Heir for a few seconds longer. "What do you want?"

Taking the hint, the bird flashed its left leg to the boy. Sirius noticed the letter attached to it and softened his disgruntled expression.

"Sorry, bud," he said once the envelope was untied. "I haven't got any treats on me. Surely there's some stupid rats stuck on the streets this time of night, yeah?"

The owl, with its unattractive brown feathers twinged with vomit-green, stepped backward and spread its wings. Sirius felt the wing that hit his cheek as the bird took off was completely purposeful.

Ignoring the owl as it flew off, Sirius looked to the letter in his hand. It was enveloped in a beige card, and addressed to Sirius singularly, which was rather strange. However, upon closer inspection, the Heir realized that he only knew one person who dotted their I's with tiny smiley faces.

James.

Immediately, a huge grin split across Sirius' face- the first true smile that he'd shown for the entirety of winter holiday. His whole being was overcome with a tingly sort of joy, making him forget the fact that he was laying inconspicuously on the concrete floor of Grimmauld's balcony. The Heir tore open the letter and unfolded the parchment inside, reading:

 _Sirius_

 _Where in the actual fuck are you mate? I missed you at Petes birthday party. I mean his mum made these noodle things that tasted like heaven and we had chocolate cake with like ten inches of frosting on top. You can't top that. Plus Rem and him showed me a telly in real life and let me just say it was BLOODY AMAZING. I was totally blown off my arse we've got to show you too sometime._

 _Anyways I told the boys that I sent you like three letters and you didnt respond. I called you an arsehole and Pete totally agreed but Rem said you probably just didnt get them because you know, bat-shit-crazy family and shit. I like that option more so sorry for the first one._

 _I'm writing this on Christmas Eve Eve so I hope youll get it before the actual holiday. Mum and Dad say youve probably got to spend it with your psychos and all but I wanted to invite you here. Offer still stands if you want to try, you know. But like the cooler part is that they say you can come over for New Years! If you get all the school shit you need then come to my place asap then theyll just take us back to school on the eighth. Itll be bloody cool. We have Marauders stuff to talk about. Oh yeah Rem and Pete are coming too (well actually theyre here now) but I had asked them at the birthday because you know. I really want you to come though mate. Youre like, my best mate._

 _Ok that sounded so lame but really youve gotta come. If you don't respond in a week Im literally going to come blow your house down and take you for myself. Miss your stupid face. Hate your fucking weird ass family. Rem and Pete are also kind of reading this over my shoulder and Rem says that's rude and I cant do that but fuck it I will. Hes been eating all my cereal you know that? Gah I try to hex him but hes like really good at defense spells for some reason. I hate it._

 _Im rambling ok I know but Im praying to Merlin that this letter gets to you and not to your parents. That's right if one of you is reading this right now I fucking HATE your arses and I want you to let Sirius go you motherfuckers!_

 _Rem says I also cant say that but whatever. Just get here mate._

 _Marauders till we die,_

 _James._

 _P.S. this is peter hi! i miss you sirius!_

 _P.P.S. We all miss you, Sirius, but it's ok. It's not your fault. ~Remus_

Sirius didn't realize he'd teared up until a few drops ended up tickling his cheeks upon finishing the letter. Thoughts began shooting through his brain in tangles, like paper fireworks.

His friends hadn't forgotten about him! They missed him, and they wanted him to hang out with them! They were still the Marauders!

But along with his happier thoughts came realizations that weren't as such. Apparently James had sent him three letters before this? Where'd they gone? Had his parents thrown them away closed, or opened them and burned them after? Why hadn't they said anything? That was illegal, Sirius thought bitterly, poking in other people's mail. However, it wasn't like illegality had ever fazed Walburga and Orion before.

Aside from the letters, Sirius felt a pounding headache coming on that no matter how hard he tried to ignore, was slowly taking over all his thoughts. He tried to remember what happened the previous night, but didn't get far in his sleuthing before he was distracted by yet something else- the sky.

It was a warm color, painted with streaks of yellow and orange and pink and red. The last time he checked it was grey and glassy…

He had _not_ been outside all night, had he? Was it already morning?

The Heir grabbed his wand from the pocket of his crumpled robes and mumbled a, ' _tempus'._ A thin white band spelled out 'six in the morning', and a small gasp escaped Sirius' lips. He stood from his place on the floor, wiped his slightly damp cheeks, and made his way back into the house- which thankfully was still quiet, so everyone must still be asleep.

Sirius walked across the hall to his room, opening and closing the door in expertised silence. He stripped off his robes and tossed them on the floor for Kreacher to fetch later. He worked on unbuttoning his dress shirt then, pulling it out of from his slacks and tossing it atop the robes. Just as he went to kick off his shoes, the Heir noticed movement in his bed.

He walked over and pulled back the duvet, hard gaze softening when he realized Regulus was there, fast asleep. Sirius shook his younger brother's shoulders.

"Reg," he whispered. "Wake up. Reg."

The younger boy was a rather light sleeper, and his eyes peeled open in just moments.

"Sirius!" he cried softly, throwing his arms around his big brother.

"What are you doing in here, Reg?"

"Waiting for you, you oaf! I came to look for you on the balcony but didn't see you. Then I was worried."

Sirius was about to question why Regulus didn't see him, but he realized that he spent most of the night on the ground (for reasons he still wasn't totally sure of), and the window from the library wouldn't have had him in its scope of view. Instead, he said, "M'sorry, brother. I fell asleep out there. More importantly, how'd you get away with falling asleep in here?"

"Mother and father were drunker than usual last night," Regulus explained. "I think it's got to do with all the talk of the 'disgraced Heir of the Moste Noble and Ancient House of Black' stuff."

"Was it that bad?"

"Absolutely horrible. They passed out on the living area couch. I figured I was safe here."

"Oh, smart." Sirius kicked off his dress shoes and crawled into the bed next to his Regulus- horribly wrinkled slacks be damned. Sleep was somewhat clouding his mind, but he refused to let it take over as a thought popped into his head. "Wait, they got _really_ drunk last night?"

"Yeah, it was awful."

"Bet they'll be hungover enough to want to get rid of me today."

"What are you on about, brother?"

"The rest of the Marauders invited me to James' place, and I figure the only way I'll get to go is if I ask father in a few hours."

"For the rest of holiday?"

"Yeah, you'll be okay, right? I can't take anymore shit from the family, Reg."

"I get it, brother."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

The boys, much like on the previous night, wrapped their arms around each other and fell into an easy sleep.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Come again?"

"For the next two weeks, sir. I'd be at the Potter residence and we'd travel back to Hogwarts without you having to do anything."

"The Potters are blood-traiting filth, son."

"They're pure, though, sir."

Silence fell between the Black family patriarch and his next-of-kin. Orion had a massive headache that he could only pretend to ignore for so long, and Sirius thought his brain was about to shut off from lack of oxygen. However, after what seemed like an hour, Orion let out a frustrated,

"Fine. Kreacher will escort you there after lunch."

And in that moment, the Heir let his second smile of the holiday split across his face. Perhaps the New Year wouldn't be as dreadful as he'd originally thought.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"SIRIUS!" The collective prepubescent screams of his name made Sirius smile in total bliss. Alright, maybe his kick to Kreacher's face as he apparated back home contributed as well. He didn't dwell on that fact, however, for three pairs of arms were soon wrapped around him; in a very, very manly way of course.

"Lads!" Sirius cried affectionately, hugging James, Remus, and Peter back. He hadn't realized how much he'd truly missed his friends.

"You're lucky we were on the porch, Peter showed us this new game called Bong and we've been in my room for hours. Mum practically had to drag us out here."

"It's called Pong, James," Peter corrected, smothering his smile.

"Whatever. Hungry, Sirius? Wanna play Quidditch? These guys are rubbish," James said. His smile was giant and his eyes were alight with childish glow behind his spectacles. Remus and Peter shoved his right arm for his comment, throwing the boy off a little.

"Yeah, let's play," Sirius replied. He looked at each of his mates before taking off, not knowing where James' pitch was at all, but still earning himself three followers.

"Last one there has to fly with a Jelly Legs Curse on 'em!"

And just like that, the Marauders were whole again.


	9. IX

**Chapter nine! :)**

 **There's a pretty good amount of Wolfstar interaction in this one, and a fair bit of Jily too, so I hope you all are going to love it. You already know how much your favorites, reviews, and follows mean to me haha, that hasn't changed. And I know I'm kind of the queen of run-on sentences… so tell me if you see some I should fix.**

 **Don't forget to check out my Tumblr, wolfstarstreet :D**

 **Also, I'll be going to California for a little over a week starting on the nineteenth, so I might not get another update in until August. Sorry for the wait, thank you for sticking with me!**

 **Again, hope you enjoy the chapter and have a wonderful day xx**

IX.

" _Teenagers scare the living shit out of me."_

 _-My Chemical Romance_

The night of Sirius' arrival, December twenty-sixth, was chaotic… to say the least. The Potter's house was enormous, their plentiful wealth stemming from James' grandfather's infamous line of haircare products. However, the Marauders were adamant on the fact that they were all going to sleep in James' room, which wasn't so spacious once everyone was piled inside.

"Who's sleeping where, boys?" James asked.

"I'll be here." Sirius climbed into James' bed. For dramatic effect, he snored quite loudly and dribbled on his pillowcase.

"You will not, you arsehat!" James laughed, grabbing the soiled pillow. The two best friends issued a pillow fight that Peter joined in on, while Remus enjoyed participating with the occasional Backfiring jinx. All was fun and games until Sirius dodged one of James' pillows- ducking and unintentionally thrusting his left elbow backward, resulting in the stomach-dropping sound of the bedroom window shattering. The Heir stopped laughing at once, and ignored the sound of James and Peter continuing the game. He was frozen and fear was welling inside of him, surely about to boil over.

"Will you two shut up for a second?" Remus complained, making his fellow Marauders quiet down instantaneously. Remus rarely got snappy, and both eleven-year-olds knew they should take him seriously.

Sirius, on the other hand, couldn't care to pay attention to his friends behind him. He was still staring at the shattered window with wide, unblinking eyes. How could he fuck up so badly so soon? He could still vividly remember the raw agony that resided in his throat just sixteen days ago from fucking up at home. What was to make of him now?

"What's wrong, mate?" James had taken the initiative and approached Sirius. He put his hand on the Heir's shoulder, who registered the touch in his mind but not with his body.

A few seconds passed before Sirius turned around and looked at his best mate. "I'm so sorry James, fuck."

"Merlin, Sirius, take a breath. You on about the window?"

"Yeah, your mum's gonna be pissed."

"She'll complain, mate, but it's not like she'll be raging." James laughed at the image of his mother that furious. It seemed impossible, something from an alternate universe.

"But aren't I going to get punished?"

James' laughter increased until he realized that his best mate was not in fact joking. Sirius was still regarding him with genuine bewilderment.

"You mean, like, physically or something? What the hell?" James' thick eyebrows were kit together, and Sirius felt stupid as he stared at the bespectacled boy looking at him with total dismay.

"James." Remus finally joined in the rather awkward conversation, silently warning their most loyal yet most blunt Marauder.

"What?" James asked.

"Go get some extra throws and pillows, yeah?"

James took the hint, and luckily, Peter threw in a, "I'll help him," that resulted in a concerned Remus and a shooken-up Sirius being left alone.

"I'm so fucking confused right now, Rem." Sirius sat on the floor, crossing his legs and resting his back against the sliver of wall under the shattered window.

"It's okay," Remus said, sitting across from him. "You want to talk about it?"

"Not at all."

"We're going to, anyway."

"Yeah, I know."

"Mrs. Potter is like Mother Teresa." Remus smiled, choosing to start on an easy foot. "She's gotten a little fussed with us this past week or so, but I could never imagine her getting, like, _angry._ "

Sirius took that in for a second. How could you never imagine someone getting angry? How could anyone have such a disposition that the thought of them enraged was so implausible?

"She'd never punish anyone," Remus said. "Physically, I mean. Harmfully."

Sirius was still silent, staring at his hands in his lap.

"No parent should do that, Sirius. Ever. It's really, really wrong. That doesn't happen to everyone."

No one spoke after that. Remus was radiating with anger and sincerity, while Sirius sat in complete dismay and muddled confusion. It was quite awkward, to say the least, as the Marauders (sans Remus) weren't used to openly discussing such mature topics. Most eleven and twelve-year-olds spent their time talking about birds and sports and shite they'd forget the next day, but for some reason, these four had spun themselves a rather complicated web of friendship that they'd only just begun exploring.

The tension in the room was finally cut by Sirius, who mumbled, "You're not supposed to get punished if you do something wrong?"

"Not physically."

Sirius, for lack of a better response, hummed.

"Sirius?" Remus asked, making the other boy look up from his apparently all-interesting lap. The Heir didn't say anything- not like he needed to- and instead waited expectantly for Remus to continue. "What do your parents do to you?"

Panic bubbled in the pit of Sirius' stomach, which he subconsciously masked as anger. "They don't do anything," he said defensively, "and I don't appreciate you always trying to make it seem like they do!"

The Heir stood up from his place on the floor, and Remus quickly followed suit. "Don't run off, please."

"I am not running off! I just, don't want to be around you and your nosy, good-for-nothing, ignorant assumptions about my life! You don't know who I am and what I can do!"

Sirius recognized the tone that his Black lineage had forced on him since birth; the tight-arse, better-than-you dialect that came off his tongue with such ease. It seeped back into his speech like poison, and with a heaving sigh, the twelve-year-old realized that no matter what his mates said, he'd always be the Heir to the Noble and Moste Ancient House of Black.

And you know who brought this all upon him? Remus.

"I hate you Remus," he said vehemently, making a move for the door. However, the younger boy was too quick for him, casting a quick _Colloportus_. The Heir spun around on his heel, ready to attack the other boy- he'd left his wand downstairs. Remus didn't let him get a word in, though, and instead rolled his hazel eyes.

"You don't hate me. You know I'm right, Sirius! And I'm fucking worried about you! You think I don't notice how freaked out you get when James puts an arm around you? Or how awkward you get when someone calls you mate? And you just want me to ignore the Howler you got on the first day of school, and how you reacted to it? Lily told me _everything,_ we spend Thursday nights in the library together, you oblivious tosser."

Sirius silently cursed the red head.

"I can see all this shite that you're putting yourself through, Sirius. I can see it, I have fucking _eyes._ I mean, even James and Peter know that everything isn't gumdrops and lollipops at your home, yeah? I've researched the, oh, what the hell is it? The Ancient, Noble, Moste Perfect House of Black, okay? And I know that the Marauders have only been together for what, four months now? And I don't "know who you are" or "what you can do" totally, but I _want to_ you bastard. I fucking _want to._ That's all I want you to know, okay? I'm not expecting you to open up to us and be some emotional, I don't know, yeah? I just need you to know that I, we, all want to know you and help you and say fuck it to whatever horrible people you're stuck with at home. And when you're ready to talk, please just, start talking. But I won't keep pushing anymore until you're done pretending like you fucking hate me."

Remus' small chest was heaving, his normally tan face and chest blossoming in a cherry red that brought out the thin lines of his scars. He fell backward onto James' bed, letting his eyes fall closed. Sirius was staring wide-eyed at his friend, shocked at his out-of-character outburst. Remus wasn't a twat, Sirius knew that. His tawny-haired mate was about three inches shorter than him, with what little meat he had on his pre-pubescent body being muscle, but he had a backbone, most definitely. He stood up for what he believed in, he said what he wanted to (if deemed appropriate for the conversation, of course), and he was fiercely loyal to the people he was close to. However, Sirius also thought Remus seemed to be wiser far beyond his years- being great at listening to opinions differing from his own, and listening in general, as well as always being able to keep his cool and never raise his voice. But it seemed his anger surpassed his will to stay calm just then, and Sirius couldn't comprehend what made Remus act out like that.

He felt shy, a rare feeling for the twelve-year-old, as he opened his mouth and asked, "Was that our first fight, Rem?"

The exhausted boy started laughing atop James' Golden Snitch sheets, turning to look at his conflicted friend.

"I don't think so." Remus was smiling. "Just the first time you saw me lose my shite."

Sirius let out a bark of laughter that released a tenfold of tension he didn't realise his body was holding. In that moment, his walls were down, so when Remus approached him for a hug, he didn't think twice about it.

What could they say? It's not like any of the Marauders had it in them to stay angry at one another.

In fact, the two boys began laughing into each other's shoulders as they listened to James and Peter pounding on the bedroom door.

" _Why'd you blokes lock the door? Open up! What's going on?"_

" _Let us in! Remus, Sirius! Come on, these blankets and shite are weighing us down!"_

Their laughter died down and both boys released each other from their arms. Before Remus said his counterspell, however, he turned to Sirius and asked quietly,

"Honestly, though. Do they, _hurt_ you?"

And Remus hated himself when he wasn't surprised that Sirius nodded.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Boys, come on in, now! The party starts in less than two hours!"

James groaned, but nonetheless led the rest of the Marauders inside at his mum's call.

Sirius had been living at the Potters' for five days now, but was still unused to how _warm_ the environment was. A short while ago, Sirius wouldn't have hesitated to call the Potters out on being blood-traiting, repulsive filth. But Mrs. Potter had turned out to be the nicest woman Sirius had ever met, he thought, right from the start.

 _"Sirius?" Mrs. Potter opened James' bedroom door a sliver and peeked inside. She'd just returned home from grocery shopping, and Mr. Potter informed her that the infamous Sirius Black had arrived at her home._

 _Now, Mrs. Potter was a very open person, as was her husband. They both prided themselves on raising James with such an open-minded disposition; to put yourself out there, accept people, love fully, and the like. And when Mrs. Potter caught wind that her son had befriended the Heir to the Noble and Moste Ancient House of Black, she was completely intrigued._

 _Sirius, however, didn't know what was going to happen. His trepidation of the woman had been diminished greatly due to James, Peter, and Remus telling him how Mrs. Potter was apparently a saint. However, when he heard his name, his heart picked up pace, and as he stood from his place on the now-blanketed floor, he felt a little shaken. The bedroom window had been fixed with a moderately complicated version of the_ Reparo _charm, which Mr. Potter had cast. He was very laid back, and didn't even flinch at the mention of the mishap. But Mrs. Potter? She was an enigma to Sirius._

 _The pair made their way to the kitchen, Mrs. Potter sitting at the breakfast bar and Sirius sitting next to her. With a few waves of her wand, a baby blue plate and two chocolate chip muffins ended up between them on the counter._

 _"Thank you, madame."_

 _"Oh, you can call me Mrs. Potter, love."_

 _Sirius nodded in response. The woman did seem pretty chill._

" _So, how'd you and James meet?"_

 _Mrs. Potter wasn't one for small talk, Sirius surmised. "On the Hogwarts Express. I sort of invaded his compartment, but I didn't know he was there. We started talking and stuff." Sirius left out the fact that their 'talking' was arguing, and 'stuff' was near fist fights. Who cared, really?_

 _"And the other boys?"_

 _"They found our compartment later."_

 _"And you all ended up in Gryffindor together, how funny!"_

 _Sirius stiffened at the mention of his sorting, but went along with it. "Yeah."_

 _A few moments passed as the two nibbled on their muffins, soon leaving a pile of crumbs and two empty muffin liners. Sirius remained seated, hating his awkwardness. Mrs. Potter didn't seem to notice._

 _"Look, love," she began, putting a soft hand of Sirius' arm. The touch was foreign to the Heir, but he masked his face with indifference. "I'm not going to lie, I was skeptical of you at first. I mean, my son? James Potter? Befriending the Heir to the Noble and Moste Ancient House of Black? I didn't think it was true. But he's told me a lot about you, and I know a lot about your family, and now that I've met you, I want you to know that the Potters are always here for you. Ready to welcome you with open arms, just like we'd welcome Remus and Peter. I'm happy to treat you three boys as my own."_

 _The sentiment would've been heartfelt in the eyes of a regular kid, but this kind of love and affection was alien to Sirius, and he took it as nothing more than words. Nonetheless, Mrs. Potter had lived up to her sweet reputation, and the Heir went back to James' room feeling confident about their first conversation._

The Marauders met Mrs. Potter in the living room, where she was maneuvering gold streamers around the banister with her wand.

"What's there to do, mum?" James asked.

"If you boys could bring the round tables from the garage to the backyard, that'd be lovely. And could you also bring the chairs? Then I have some work in the kitchen that you all-"

"Mum," James whined, holding out the word for five seconds.

"What?" The woman laughed. "You boys are helping with this party, you're not guests. I'm sure a little hard work won't hurt you."

Mrs. Potter resumed her work with the streamers while the Marauders headed to the Potter's garage, which happened to be on the other side of their rather sizable property. 

"Sorry we've been dragged into this, mates," James said.

"Are you kidding? My mum had me scrubbing the floors before you lot came over for my birthday. Your mum's a saint," Peter said, and the boys laughed in response.

"So, who normally comes to this?" Remus asked.

"Family, friends, family friends, all that. But, oh! Shite, I didn't tell you lads! I invited the Red Hen!" James stopped in his tracks, his smile wider than ever. He had taken to calling one Lily Evans by the name "Red Hen" so that bystanders at school wouldn't know who he was talking about all the time, saving his eleven-year-old pride. Of course, everyone knew he was madly in love with the girl anyway, but James still kept up his use of the nickname.

"Lily's coming?" Sirius perked up at the mention of her. He spoke to her briefly in the hallways and such, but he hadn't had a proper conversation with the girl since the rather embarrassing encounter in the broom closet.

"Fuck yeah! And I'm totally hoping she'll give me a New Year's kiss."

"She hates you, James," Peter said sympathetically.

"She loves me," James said back. "Just give it some time."

"'Some time' is more than the seven hours before midnight tonight, I hope you know," Remus chimed in.

"Oh lads, regardless. That bird is mine!" James threw in a cheeky wink at the end of his confident statement, and the boys followed him into the garage.

Fifteen round tables, plus a hundred folded chairs, were laid against a few repurposed boxes of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. The boy's had their wands, but soon came to the sore realisation that none of them had mastered a powerful enough Levitationcharm to transfer the heavy objects to the backyard.

"Well, fuck. What do we do now?" Peter huffed.

"We could just lift them. We're not supposed to use magic outside of Hogwarts anyway," Remus said.

"Oh, that's not what you say when you're jinxing and charming the hell out of everything," Sirius laughed, and the others joined in.

"Besides, a little money and some paperwork makes that rule shite anyway," James said. He looked to Sirius, "Your parents got out of it, yeah?"

"Of course. Yours haven't?" Sirius looked at Peter, knowing that a Muggle family like Remus' probably wouldn't bother with it.

"It's a _lot_ of pounds, you rich twats," Peter smiled affectionately at James and Sirius. "And the paperwork only comes if you've got connections. A name, more like."

The two tall, black-haired boys nodded understandingly before turning to look at the tables again. The Marauders were weak by no means, but it looked like they'd be working well into the hour that they had left before guests started arriving.

"Everyone grab on," Remus lifted one side of the table with miraculous strength, Sirius thought. However, he took an adjacent side and when all four boys had a nice hold, they began walking towards the Potter residency's backyard.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"I thought you said she was coming," Sirius nudged James' shoulder. The Potter family's annual New Year's Eve party began seven minutes ago, and a certain red head was nowhere in sight.

"She is," James insisted. "Or, at least, she said she was."

"Look," Remus nudged James' other side, and his head snapped to the front door. Sure enough, Mr. and Mrs. Evans had just walked in with Lily in tow, looking absolutely stunning. She was clad in a green dress with black buttons from her neck down to the where the hem of the dress ended, just above her knees. The sleeves ended at her shoulders and James couldn't stop staring at her long, pale arms.

"Lils!" James called. Sirius commended him for playing it cool as she walked over. The Heir had no idea how she got her hair to stay in the voluptuous, curly ponytail contraption she had it in, but it looked quite intimidating swinging to and fro behind her head as she approached.

"James." Lily nodded curtly as she stopped in front of the boy. She was now almost his height, as she was wearing a black pair of platforms.

"You, um, you look fucking, um-"

"How articulate," the girl said, not unkindly. She laughed softly before turning her attention to the other boys.

"How've you been?" Remus asked her.

"Alright." Lily smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. She quickly changed the subject. "How've you been?"

"Good," Remus replied. Sirius then commented on how Lily was now Peter's height with her shoes on, to which the blonde boy floundered indignantly whilst trying to stand on his tippy-toes. The group laughed, and slowly migrated towards the food table where they ate and talked about what their plans were for 1972. However, as the night progressed and members of the Potter family got more and more drunk, the Marauders and Lily ended up outside, fleeing from the impending karaoke singing.

"We could play Quidditch!" James suggested, never missing an opportunity to bring up his favorite sport. The rest of the Marauders groaned, but to everyone's surprise, Lily perked up at the thought.

"You have a pitch out here?" she asked.

"Yeah, it's a little past the trees out there." James pointed in the general area, shocked that the love of his life was even interested in his proposal.

"Can we play?"

This time, James' heart practically fell out of his chest. "Yeah, fuck. Let's play."

"Can I borrow a t-shirt though? I have shorts on under here," Lily said.

And bloody fucking hell, James wouldn't be surprised if his knob fell off right then. The most beautiful girl he'd ever seen in his entire life wanted to wear one of his t-shirts. The other Marauders were shocked as well, but happy as could be for their love-struck mate.

"Totally. I'll go grab one," James said. He started speed-walking back towards his house, leaving his circle of friends that were congregating by Mrs. Potter's garden. As soon as James was gone, Sirius had to know why the girl was suddenly being so nice to his best mate.

"What happened to you, Lily?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Come on. When we left for holiday, you'd pretty much told James to fuck off. What changed?"

"It's going to be a new year," Lily explained. "And as long as he doesn't try anything funny with me, I'm planning to make peace with him."

The proposition sounded fair enough to Sirius. The small talk changed directions for a few minutes, until James came running down the hill his house was perched on with a Kenmare Kestrels t-shirt in hand. Sirius cringed at the choice, but knew if it had been him, he'd only be able to offer the girl a stupid button-down or dress shirt.

"Here you go," James said. He was clearly out of breath, but covered it up nicely. Lily accepted the shirt and went to change behind a few of the larger bushes. The boys took advantage of her absence.

"A Kestrels shirt? Really?" Peter chastised.

"It's all I had that was clean! Fuck off," James shoved him.

"I can't believe she even plays," Sirius said.

"I know," said James.

"Better be on your best game. Can't get beat, now can you?" Remus smiled.

"I can't beat a girl, that's awful!" James said indignantly.

"If you let me win, James, I'll kick your arse!" Lily yelled, and the Marauders turned around to where she stood barefoot, in a pair of black shorts that just barely peeked out from under the hem of the too-large t-shirt. Her platforms were in hand, and she'd apparently seen the pitch from behind the bushes, because she took off in the right direction.

"Bloody fucking hell." James' eyes were wide, and Sirius thought he could see some dribble on the corner of his mouth. Nevertheless, the Marauders took off in pursuit of the fiery red head.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"What time is it?" Peter asked. Him, Remus, and Sirius were laying in the middle of the Potter's pitch, as James and Lily were the only two people still playing Quidditch. Lily may have talked a big game, but it turned out that she was actually quite terrible at the sport, and was now just trying to stop James from scoring rather than score herself. It was all in good fun, of course, for the girl knew how bad she was and laughed with the rest of the boys when her efforts were particularly futile.

Remus pulled his wand out of his back pocket, muttering a _Tempus_ that revealed it was 11:57. He cast a prolonging charm that kept the white numbers hovering in the air.

"Would you two get down here? It's almost midnight!" Sirius yelled at the lovebirds in the sky.

"Not until I score one!" Lily laughed.

"That's not gonna happen, Lils!" James called, and their play continued.

"She's honestly so perfect for him," Sirius said, fake-gagging. Peter and Remus laughed. A comfortable silence filled the air, the three Marauders watching James and Lily fly around. At 11:59, however, the boys sat up- attention diverted- to count down the seconds to midnight.

"Seven, six, five," they chanted, shoving each other's shoulders in anticipation. There was something so spine-tinglingly exciting about the dawn of a new year.

"Three, two, on-"

"JAMES POTTER!" Lily screamed, followed by a string of expletives that the Marauders didn't know she had in her. Sirius, Remus, and Peter looked up to see James hurtling towards one of the bushes that lined the pitch. He landed with a softened thud and a loud groan.

"YOU'RE LUCKY I AIMED FOR THE BUSH!"

"Bloody hell," Sirius said. "He totally kissed her, didn't he?"

The three Marauders stood and ran to help their fallen, unspoken leader. Lily landed and stormed off in the direction of the house.

Remus brushed some leaves off James' shoulders, sighing at his impatience. "I told you 'some time' was longer, you prat."


End file.
